#Miguel fumbled HARD

[cctori]

Xina at high school prom!!!!

[scoobysnakz]

loser miguel who starts to normalize his perverse thoughts because, if he’s thinking nice sweet things, surely they balance out?

he can imagine your plump ass bouncing on his cock as much as he wants, as long as he pictures himself cooking you a romantic meal right after, it’s fine.

loser miguel who can finally start accepting your hugs again. and thank god for that, he thought he was going to combust without your warm embrace. he had gotten so used to not getting them again, that his cock immediately stiffened the first time around, leaving him a blushing mess when you made another joke about his keys.

loser miguel who starts outwardly asking for any form of physical affection. he’s gone so long without any touch that living without your hugs leaves a burning deep inside him.

he shamelessly stands there after saying goodbye, arms outstretched, waiting for you to run over to him and press your smaller frame against him as you bury your head against his chest, forcing you to get dizzy from his cologne.

loser miguel who puts on a show of being embarrassed whenever someone says your his work wife, or simply more than the best friends everyone at the workplace has come to know you as.

they all know you’re a very touchy feely person, but you’re extra clingy with miguel, and he doesn’t mind a bit.

loser miguel who is over the moon when you want to repay him for walking you to your train the other night.

he has a few ideas in mind, you sprawled out on the sofa with his thick fingers burried in your leaky cunt while stares up at your perfect face with those soft, brown eyes of his. his cock sliding against your slick folds as you beg and whine for more doesn’t sound too bad either, if you aren’t down for him ravaging your clit.

loser miguel who has to make do with you buying him lunch one day because you insisted on something other than the ‘quality time’ he proposed. he was too busy forcing himself not to ogle at your face when he suggested it, to even notice the way your gaze softens at his kind offer, or the flicker of hope in your eyes when he smiles awkwardly at you.

loser miguel who’s too self conscious for his own good. he’s been told countless times how easy it would be for him to walk into any bar and have anyone come home with him.

there’s always plenty of girls who throw themselves at him, the waitresses who tell him when their shift ends, the delivery drivers who offer to settle for a different payment, the women he works with offering to stay behind with him to work on different projects. and maybe if he wasn’t so oblivious he would have said yes at some point, too fed up of his palm and whatever fucked up porn he can find to resist the rush of arousal that hits him whenever he sees a pair of tits.

but that was before he’d met you, it’s different. sophia vergara herself could get down on her knees for him and he would deny her. she doesn’t have your smile, your charisma, you cheery laugh, your perky ass, your soft, homely scent that lingers on everything you touch , no one does.

loser miguel who has to excuse himself from the project meeting because he can’t hide his erection, no matter how many times he changes position.

much to his dismay, the toilets are full and your hand placed lazily on his thigh as you idly fidget with his fingers has left him with an achingly hard cock. so he has to hobble down the, thankfully, barren hallways, cock so hard it hurts to walk.

he pulls himself into the lab, door locked firmly behind him as he pushes himself into the corner. hastily, his hands reach for his belt buckle, fingers fumbling with the urgency that shoots through his veins.

a low, shaky groan escapes him as he finally wraps him clammy palm around his cock, precum already spilling everywhere. he starts of with soft, gentle strokes, hoping that it’ll be enough to get him off but all he can think about is the way you leaned into him as the two of you walked into the conference room this morning.

his deep brown eyes scan the lab lazily until they land on your lab coat. in a moment of desperation, he grabs it and brings it up to his nose, cock instantly growing harder as your scent takes over his senses.

his hand moves faster now, more deliberate and hungry strokes that cause his hips to stutter and countless prayers of your name to fall from his lips.

“migs?” for a second he thinks he’s gone insane. he’s started hearing your voice, feeling your warmth, the sweetness of the air around you, when he knows damn well your in that meeting.

“migs, you okay?” you call out again, concern clear in your shaky tone, “the lab was locked but i couldn’t find you anywhere else.”

fuck

you’re in here. but he’s so close and if you keep standing in that exact position he can see your ass without you even knowing he’s there.

“there you are! i was so worried when you rushed out of that meeting,” you ramble, finally turning the corner, only to be met with the sight of miguel’s head rolled back and leaky cock on show with… is that your lab coat?

“fuck! i’m so sorry,” you yell, hands flying up to cover your reddened face.

“ay coño,” he husks, still pumping at his cock, too close to stop now.

you try to back away but those gentle, mahogany eyes you love so much are glowing a fierce red, drawing you in closer to miguel and his burning desire for you.

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tag list: @xxyaoi-nationxx @farrowroyale @m4dyy

[fangswbenefits]

Second Intentions

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You’ve been tense lately, and Miguel offers a massage. Quite thoughtful of him… except you know exactly why.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Tittyfuck. Lactation/breastfeeding kink.

“Let me give you a massage.”

The offer was came unexpectedly as soon as you walked into the living room after taking a shower.

“To what do I owe this generosity?” you teased, hands on your hips.

Miguel scoffed as he leaned back on the couch, wearing a casual shirt and sweatpants as a clear sign he was ready to call it a day.

Or so you thought.

“Just sit here and let me take care of you.”

Heaving a tired sigh, you came to sit on the floor, promptly leaning back in between his parted legs, so you could rest against the soft cushion.

Two large warm hands came to give both your shoulders a tentative squeeze. “You’re too tense,” his voice came from above you.”

“Yeah… I never thought that juggling between taking care of a baby and keeping up with spider duties would be this hard.”

A gentle squeeze came next. “Maybe listen to me and take proper time off.”

“I don’t want to be at home all day,” you huffed with a groan as he increased the pressure.

“Only for a while longer, then.”

“Miguel?”

“Yes?”

“You’re making me tense,” you giggled tiredly.

“And you’re too stubborn.”

His fingers flexed in unison as his thumbs worked their way along your shoulder blades. Your head came to rest against his crotch, as your eyelids suddenly felt too heavy.

It felt genuinely nice and soothing.

You’d let out small whimpers with each stroke, appreciating how masterfully he eased the soreness.

A few minutes ticked by and you felt a sudden shift.

His fingers had slipped under the straps of your top and, with each circular motion, they keep sliding lower.

Of course.

If you weren’t sure of Miguel’s intentions, the hardening cock pressed to the back of your neck was proof enough.

“Miguel.”

Lower.

“Hmm?”

“You’re not that subtle.”

And lower…

“What do you mean?” he feigned innocence, his fingertips dipping inside the top and nursing bra, sprawling gently across the curve of your breasts.

“Aren’t you supposed to be easing the tension?” you asked, trying to sound as uninterested as possible just to rile him up.

“They look and feel pretty tense to me.”

Oh.

Point taken.

He began to squeeze very gently as if testing your reaction. You let out a small hiss as the build up of milk proved to be more uncomfortable than you had anticipated.

“Maybe I should get the pump,” you whispered as soon as the pads of his fingers touched your nipples.

His covered cock twitched against you. “Maybe you should stay right here.”

“Why?”

You did love to get under Miguel’s skin, knowing just how obsessed he was with being the one to help drain some of the milk.

He pinched you lightly, causing a few droplets to wet your the padded fabric of your bra. “Because you know I do it better.”

The effect those words had on your body was nearly instantaneous. From the way you gasped and all the way down to your clit. Miguel never delivered empty promises.

Your back arched slightly into his touch, enjoying how his cock kept pressing harded into you.

“Let me take it off,” you whimpered lowly, fumbling with his fingers so you could undo your bra.

“No. Leave it on.”

You archer an eyebrow and looked up to meet his half-hooded crimson eyes. “Why?”

“I want to see you soak it.”

Fuck.

He removed his hands, and you watched as some beads of milk dripped from the fingertips. Your clit kept throbbing intensely as he brought some past his lils, tasting you.

That was enough to get you in the mood, and you secretly hated how easily he could get you there.

Getting on your knees, you press your cheek against his thigh, giving him the most seductive stare you could muster.

He licked his fingers one by one, holding your gaze.

The overwhelming need to touch him more soon overcome you, and you brought your hands to his waistband, pulling it down in one swift motion, his fully hard cock springing free.

“How are you this hard already?” you said with a click of your tongue.

He brought one hand to grip your chin, baring his fangs as a warning. “You know why.”

“Right… the milk,” you said deviously.

Miguel didn’t have many weaknesses — that you were aware of, at least—, but he had never tried to hide how much he adored nursing on your breasts and you’d often use that as leverage to get your way.

You propped yourself on your knees, closing the gap between the two of you, as your covered breasts rested softly against his cock.

He slid his thumb past your lips and you began to slowly suckle on it, tasting the remnants of the sweetness of your milk.

“Calma…” he muttered, voice shaky. “Con calma, cariño…”

You let go of him and removed your top hurriedly, tossing it to side absentmindedly and noticing your nipples peeking through your bra.

Miguel’s gaze immediately fell to your chest and you grinned, feeling that addicting surge of ego booster from knowing you had him exactly where you wanted.

His cock twitched briefly against your bra, as beads of precum rolled down its length.

“Are you sure you want it on?” you asked in a sultry tone, teasing the clasps.

“It stays on.”

Miguel got a hold of both your wrists, pulling your into him until his tip was nudging the underside of your bra.

Oh…

Fuck.

“No hands,” he said, rubbing your pulse points gently.

He bucked his hips and the tip slipped past the barrier, settling between your breasts.

“On my thighs,” he ordered and you complied, pressing both hands and feeling the muscles tense under your touch.

You swallowed hard at the feeling of his warm cock being pushed further up and nestling into your heaving breasts. He brought both hands to the adjustable strap that ran on each side and tugged, causing you to squeeze around him while milk poured out.

“Perfect.”

The added tension around your already full breasts was enough to have your bra soaked in milk in no time, Miguel slowly guiding you up and down his cock. Wet sounds began to fill the room with each thrust.

More milk spilled and you looked down to watch fhe first droplets seeping through the tense fabric.

Your bra was drenched.

“So much milk…” he grumbled in between gritted teeth, his pace faltering briefly.

Oh, he wasn’t going to last long. Miguel did have inhuman stamina, but whenever your milk was involved, it was game over for him.

The power trip that spread through your body from knowing how you were able to being him so much pleasure was almost too much.

Your legs were firmly pressed together which only increased the friction on your own swollen clit.

Clear strings of precum mixed with your milk and splattered across your breasts with each snap of his hips.

You increased the grip on his thighs for support, seeing droplets of milk starting to fall on his pants and shirt.

Disobeying his earlier command, you pulled his shirt high enough to reveal his toned abdomen tjat flexed languidly from him fucking your breasts.

What a sight.

You placed your hand flat against his abdomen to better feel him move, and it earned a strained groaned from him.

He was ridiculously attractive, especially when he came undone under you.

“Keep… doing that…” he urged breathlessly, breaking into a more rapid rhythm, the wet sounds accompanying each and every thrust.

You started caressing his tense muscles, guiding him to his orgasm.

The hands placed on each side of your breasts came to clumsily adjust the bra and you stared down at it in confusion.

A low growl tore through his throat, as he finally tipped over the edge hard and fast. The muscles under your palm went rigid all of a sudden.

And then you noticed why he was holing your bra like that….

The first spurts of cum were covered by the fabric and he stilled abruptly, half-hooded eyes staring at how it started to soak through, cascading down in thick strings.

Beads of milk fused with his cum and now dripped from you, staining the floor.

Unexpectedly, he lurched forward and brought his lips to yours. “Please never stop…” he begged breathlessly.

“Stop what?”

“Giving me your milk.”

Masterlist

[improbable-outset]

📂 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦

↳ 📂 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

{{Part 2}}

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @m4dyy @going-through-shit @miguels-aranita @roserfz27

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: SMUT, PIV sex, unprotected sex, Roommate AU, oral sex (m receiving), brief fingering, accidental squirting. MINORS DNI!!🔞🔞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Miguel has mixed feelings towards your new boyfriend. That was until you came back with very exciting devastating news

𝐀/𝐍: Was chatting to one of the Miguel cai bots. Tell me why the bot made him use a cattle prod on me 😭 electric play??

It was a short way to his bedroom. As soon as he stepped in with you in his arms, he closed the door behind him with his feet, before gently laying you on his bed.

There was no way he was going to do this on your bed, the same bed your ex fucked you on. He probably still left traces of his presence there, like his scent on your clothes, and Miguel wasn’t prepared to face that.

Right now, he was focused on you. He left a gap between your bodies for now as he climbed over to look down at you beneath him. He studied your face as you gazed back at him. A small smile formed on your lips as your eyes fell on his own lips and Miguel found himself smiling back.

It still felt surreal, having you below him like this and being granted your constant to take you right now. He dreamt of this moment for so long and he didn’t want to mess anything up. But that might be because of his perfectionism.

He felt your hand reach up to his face to pull him in and he obliged. The warmth of your breath ghosted over his skin before he pressed his lips on yours again, picking up from where he left off.

It was more comfortable for him to deepen the kiss here, with the firmness of the mattress keeping you in place rather than the couch. His tongue slipped past your lips and his fangs emerged, lightly scraped against you.

The built up saliva helped to soften the edge for you so it wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. As he pulled away, a thin string of saliva trailed between his lips and yours.

“I don’t want to do anything if you’re not on some sort of birth control.” He said after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. There was still a rational side of him that was urging him to tell you the pivotal reminder. He had to know, even if he did want to stuff you. But an unplanned pregnancy could potentially derail the bond you’ve already built.

“Well, I’m still on the pills.” You replied. Of course, you were still sexually active with your ex before you broke up, which only happened a few hours ago.

He felt a wave of relief after hearing your answer, giving him a sense of clarity that he can still come inside you.

Your hands reached for his pants. Despite hovering over you, you still fumbling with the flier before feebly tugging on the edge of the fabric. It took him extra willpower for him to get a hold of your wrist and move your hand away, pinning them to the mattress.

“I know you’re eager right now, but we have to take it slow or I won’t last.” His composure staggered with his voice straining as he spoke. Your face dropped in disappointment.

“It’s your fault. You’ve left me second guessing about this for so long. Let me do this Miguel, please,” the eagerness from you took him by surprise.

If he knew you wanted this just as badly as he did, he would’ve taken you a long time ago. Your pleas only made his cock twitch more, desperate to be free from the bondage of his clothes.

He couldn’t bring himself to argue back, his dick will hate him for it, instead he laid back on the bed so you could easily access his crotch.

After finally removing his pants, his dick sprung free, hard and heavy. Shock was written all over your face with your mouth slightly agape and your eyes gawking at his impressive length. By the look of your face, you’ve probably never seen anything comparable to his size. The pride in his chest swelled in his chest exponentially. The little blood vessels were bulging from where the base was and his precum was already leaking from the tip.

But his confidence quickly disappeared when he felt your hand clamp around his length, swiping your thumb over the tip where the precum was leaking from. He threw his head back and groaned from your touch.

You lowered yourself and he felt your tongue lapping at the tip before you took his length in your mouth. He watched through his squinted eyes as you took his dick, disappearing inch by inch into your pretty mouth.

It was obvious that you had your fair share of experience, the way you moved your tongue around his dick. You knew what you were doing to him and how to get him riled up.

His hands went to grip your hair, grabbing a fistful of it as you kept sucking. Watching your cheeks hollow and your eyes firing with lust up at him was dizzying. He couldn’t help the moans that slipped from his mouth from the sudden peak of pleasure. However, he didn’t expect you to pull away so suddenly. Just when he was close to reaching his peak.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want you to come just yet…” you uttered but Miguel could sense the teasing in your tone. He didn’t argue back though.

Instead he removed the remaining clothes he was wearing before his hands reached your zipper. You still had on the dress you were supposed to wear with your date.

You always looked breathtaking whenever you dressed up and put in a little extra effort in your appearance. But now he felt a little bit of hope that maybe he could see you put that effort when being with him now.

The dress quickly slipped off of you and Miguel disregarded it elsewhere with the rest of his clothes. He immediately caught the sight of your panties and how damp they were already. You were wet. For him. He felt his cock twitch again from the sight.

The fabric candy glistened from your own sweet juice as he took them off. His hands reached for your folds, feeling the wetness between his fingers while drawing lazy circles around your clitirous.

You gasped from his touch as he continued to work with his fingers. You were so responsive to his touches, it was driving him insane. It was all for him and him only.

But his dick was getting too desperate to feel you now. He pulled his hands away from your fold and repositioned himself with his cock lining up against your heated cunt. The tip brushed against the skin before nuzzling over your opening.

A wave of relief and pleasure washed over him as he pushed the head in, finally feeling your walls open up for his cock. He halted once he was fully inside of you.

He took this moment to fully analyse your body language. He noticed how you were gripping the sheets below you from how much he was stretching you to accommodate his size. You felt so good around his dick, caressing every surface area of the sensitive skin.

Your breathing pattern became shallow from how much you were overwhelmed by him taking you like this. He saw you look up at him and let out a shaking breath of approval, or it could be anticipation, he couldn’t tell.

“Are you okay?” He asked. He needed to know how things were in your end. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you or cause you any discomfort, even if you did have experience with this.

“I’m alright, just trying to adjust right now.” You replied.

“Let me know when you’re ready.”

After you gave him the signal of approval, he dragged himself out, feeling the suction of your walls from the withdrawal, before carefully rolling his hips back into you. The friction you had around his cock would be the death of him. But he would die happy if this was the way he would go.

He continued rolling his hips in a steady rhythm, feeling your nails dig into his back — just as he had always imagined. He sunk himself into you, nuzzling himself into your neck and feeling your pulse against his lips.

He quickened his pace now, having familiarised the feeling of your walls clenching him desperately and your legs clamped around his waist in response.

Your moans were more needy and frantic now than what he overheard from those nights with your ex. Perhaps a sign that he was doing a better job than he had. Your chest pressed against his as you arched you back up and threw your head against the pillow.

Sliding one hand down between your bodies, he reached for your sensitive bud. Once he found it, he circled his thumb around the area before pinching it slightly, making you moan louder.

He felt a rhythmic contraction from your walls as you cried out. You unraveled before him and immediately, he pulled himself away to be met with your stunned gaze and shivering body. Your eyes widened as you tried to figure out what just happened.

“Did I just…” your voice was hoarse and you couldn’t bring yourself to finish off your sentence. Miguel was still inside of you as he soaked in the moment.

“You just came.”

“I…did?”

“Have you never done that before?” You shook your head mutely in response.

Then realisation hit him. You had been sexually active with your ex for months and he hadn’t made you come once during your entire relationship.

Now, this was your first time doing it with Miguel and in just under a few minutes of him ramming inside you, he already got you to reach your peak. To say that this was an ego boost for Miguel would be a heavy understatement.

Miguel felt his control slip from him and he continued thrusting, but this time his pace was sporadic and harsh, sinking you further into the sheets. You cried out in response, digging your nails deeper into his back and gripping hard.

“Miguel…Miguel-” your sweet, eager voice filled his ear. For him. Only him.

His pace was driven by his high ego and hunger, now knowing that he was able to achieve something that your ex could never. His rapid movements made his hair fall and stick to the film of sweat that formed on his forehead. The room was filled with your desperate moans and the wet slaps of his hips snapping into you.

After a few more thrusts, his hips flushed against your cunt as he finally reached his climax. A low groan drew out from his lips. His cum spewed out inside of you, almost scorching and dislodging your silky walls. His load reached every crevice, making sure he stained you. The sheer force made you tear up.

Even after he withdrew himself from you, there were still streaks of his cum that leaked from your hole. Both your laboured breaths filled his ears as he felt his erotic high slowly simmered down.

He felt your legs around his waist loosen before going limp on the bed. He lifted himself off of you, feeling the sweat stick to his body as he admired his handiwork.

You were still drenched in the afterglow and your legs on either side of his body were shaking now. Your hair was a mess from rubbing against the mattress from the friction of his thrusts, but it still framed your face beautifully. He couldn’t help himself from reaching over and caressing your cheek, admiring you.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“Tired,” you looked up at him, your gaze yielding with lust.

Miguel rolled over beside you, laying on his side to face you. His deflated dick settled back between his legs.

You rolled to your side to face him too, getting close enough to rest your hands on his chest and his arms instantly wrapped around your waist. Even after everything, he still couldn’t get his hands off of you. The warmth of your touch was a tangible reminder of the bond you both shared.

The air still smelt of sweat and sex as he drew you in closer. His mind wandered about the future ahead and how life between the two of you would unfold with the newfound revelation.

The thought stirred both nervousness and anticipation, not knowing how things would go. But despite that, there was still peace that overshadowed it all because he knew that his feelings for you ran deep.

“Do you wanna shower together?” He whispered.

“I think I’d like that.”

Icl, I’m kinda having mixed feelings for my Miguel fics now…I’m not too proud with how this one specifically turned out…

[slowbison]

State Champs!

Soccer-Mom! Miguel O’Hara x Top! Male Reader

Summary: Miguel and Y/n get ready for Gabriella’s football match, cheering her on while also dealing with a rather annoying parent. It’s all wholesome really, until…

warnings: fluff, wholesome, miguel almost gets into it with a mom

words: 3.2k

Miguel stood behind the car, hand on his hip while the other pointed out as he scanned for anything that he may have possibly missed from his last 4 internal check ups.

Water bottles? check. Snacks? check. Towels? check. First-aid kit? check. Chairs? check. Sunscreen? che-

He couldn’t find it.

“Mija! Dónde está el protector solar?” Miguel said, reaching into the trunk to see if it’s hiding in between the spaces or if he left it behind, but he swore he left in the car.

(where's the sunscreen?)

“Turn around, papa,” a soft voice spoke behind him.

Turning around he saw his daughter pointing at the sunscreen laying on top of the cooler while holding a football in her arm and her small bag slung over her shoulders.

“Oh, gracias mija. Now put your stuff down and let me put it on you.” He said, grabbing the sunscreen and flipping open the cap, applying some on his hands. Gabriella groaned but plopped her stuff on the floor and huffed at the cold sticky feeling as he quickly applied it on her skin.

“I don’t need it! I’ve gone out to a game without it before and everything was fine” she whined. Miguel paused and raised a brow at her face.

“When was that? The last time Y/n dropped you off before I showed up?” He questioned. Gabriella turned to look away, finding the trees rather fascinating today, nervously glancing back at his face.

“Haha, maybe?”

Miguel frowned, turning his head to look at the door you were fumbling to get through, tent and extra chair in your arms. After squeezing your way out, you locked eyes with Miguel’s hard stare and nervously smiling Gabriella in front of him. He covered his hands on her ears before baring his sharp canines at you.

“Tu puta madre! You let her play a game with no sunscreen?! She could’ve burned up!” Miguel hissed at you. You sunk your head into your shoulders and sheepishly met his eyes.

“I forgot? Silly mistake?” You apologized which didn’t seem to please the man much. He was about to say more to you when Gabriella gently took his hands off her ears and looked up at Miguel.

“Papa don’t be mean, I was just excited to play with the team before the game. Don’t be mad.” She softly said, using her puppy dog eyes that always incapacitated his anger. Miguel nostrils flared before offering a small apology to her and gave you another hard glare before putting her stuff in the trunk.

You let out a breath of relief, mouthing a thank you to the child, her replying in kind “you owe me one,” grinning before slipping into the back of the minivan. You realized you’ve been played by a child and huffed, chuckling to yourself as you walked up to Miguel who was lifting the cooler into the trunk.

“You know I’m sorry right, love?” You spoke, leaning into Miguel as you shoved the tent and chair at the side.

“You’re on thin ice right now, idiota.”

“Is it stable enough to still get a kiss?”

Miguel gruffed, turning to face you and gave a small peck on the lips. Not satisfied, you grabbed him by the hips as he turned to leave and pulled him into another kiss, lasting longer than the last. You were interrupted by Gabriella’s loud groaning.

“Get a room! The trunk is still open and I don’t wanna hear that.”

You laughed while Miguel gave you a pointed look, a small hint of blush on his cheeks. You both separated with him going to the driver’s seat after shutting the trunk closed and you entering the passengers door. Miguel pulled out of the driveway and into the road as you and Gabriella argued on what song to play, ultimately letting her win and sang a pop song. Miguel quietly singing along under his breath, drumming his fingers to the beat on the wheel. In between singing and talking you reached the football field that was held at the opposing team’s school.

Miguel had begun unpacking while you set up the tent a little bit far from Gabriella's team and closer to the other parents. Once everything was complete, you wiped the sweat forming on your brow and turned to face Miguel who was tying up Gabriella’s hair into a ponytail.

You smiled watching them, thinking back to four years ago during the first time you met him and later Gabriella. Miguel was always a bit of a grouch but when it came to her, he was as soft as a teddy bear. When you had first met him he had been a bit standoff-ish and serious, but after multiple run-ins at a local coffee shop, along with many cheesy flirtatious comments, you both developed hard feelings that sprung into a relationship. Miguel had been strict with putting Gabriella before him and how if she didn’t come to like you, he would end it. Luckily, Gabriella easily accepted you after noticing your positive influence on her father. He was smiling a lot more when it wasn’t just her and he’d become a softer person in general, though he still held a bite. You were quick to love Gabriella as well, enjoying the fun times you shared with messing with Miguel and bonding over random things. Miguel secretly loved it and played along with being a stickler.

You grabbed the camera and took a couple of shots before recording.

“Here we have our shining star ready to kick some falcon ass, isn’t that right champ?” You said, throwing up a fist which Gabriella returned before impishly smiling into the camera.

“I’m gonna pluck their stupid feathers out and wipe the floor with them!”

“Yeah! That’s the spirit!” You cheered, zooming in the camera on her and Miguel.

“Hey, there will be no cursing,” Miguel warned, staring at you and continuing, patting Gabriella on the shoulders to turn. “But you make sure you show them how the O’Hara’s play fútbol, mija. Especially that Maddison, don’t let her trip you on the ground or I will come out there.”

Gabriella looked up, scrunching her face at him. “You want to fight kids, Papa?”

“Me? No, no, no. Just if they mess with you, I’ll give their parent’s a stern talking.” Miguel said, placing a headband around her head. Gabriella squinted at him, knowing that it was probably a lie.

“Haha, you’re still fighting with them? Think you should end the war, babe.” You laughed.

Miguel had begun this feud with the girl’s parents as they had refused to put an end to their child’s action, much less not offering an apology to Gabriella. He let it go until it continued happening, but each time Gabriella had learned how to evade her "accidental" kicks. Miguel was only slightly mad at the child but more so at the parents encouraging her behavior. Now that Gabriella no longer fell for the girl’s tricks, the mother has resulted to insulting Miguel and Gabriella.

Whether it was with backhanded compliments or purely out of spite. You tried to intervene in their bickering, only to be shooed away and Miguel getting more frustrated at insults thrown your way. The woman’s husband guided her away, you doing the same with Miguel. You were more on the side of ignoring them and focusing more on Gabriella’s playing which so was Miguel, but he couldn’t help but defend his family.

“The second they start being civil is the day the war finally ends, amor.” He huffed, straightening Gabriella’s shirt.

“Just forget about them love. Today, we are going to have fun and school the other team. Ain’t that right Gabby?”

Gabriella gave you a nod, putting on her cleats and placing the ball in the arm. “I’m gonna crush them!” She said confidently, turning to leave, heading to her team before stopping when Miguel called out for her.

“Here take some water, you’re not hurting anyway right? Do you need something to eat? Might be good before-“

“Papa! I’ll be fine, stop worrying okay? you just watch me!” She interrupted with a small giggle.

“I know cariña, go have fun” He spoke softly, kissing the top of her forehead before sending her on her way again.

While he watched her leave and mingle with her team, you snaked your arms around his chest, putting your head on his shoulder.

“She’s going to be just fine love, quite the fighter you’ve raised.”

“You were there as well mi vida, I can’t help but feel scared that she’d get upset if she loses” Miguel muttered, leaning his head on yours. A warm smile crawled on your face.

“Then we’ll be there for her, like always right?” You said, pressing a kiss on his neck. “Now c’mon let’s sit and watch, hm? like we promised.”

Miguel nodded, following you back to the seats and waited for the match to start after their warm ups. Soon, the match begins to start with Gabriella standing at the center of the circle, her team behind outside while she shakes the opposing girl’s hand. At the sound of the whistle, Gabriella quickly kicks the ball forward and the game officially begins.

You sat back in your chair, taking some pictures of the action and sneaking a few of Miguel’s concentrated faces. Some of your personal favorites being when he smiled as Gabriella handled the ball, a cheer when she scored a goal and a displeased face when the ball was stolen from her.

This continued for sometime as you switched between recording and standing to cheer for her whenever she got a little close to the tent.

Smiling and waving after she dribbled the ball between her feet, confusing the opposing team as it slipped through their feet and to a teammate waiting on the outside. You laughed while Miguel shook his head, chuckling at her actions. She returned back to the center field, continuing to push against the other team. A break was then called after another winning score, Gabriella’s team running back to their coach.

Miguel had gone to offer water bottles and snacks to the coaches that happily agreed, leading a few children over to your tent.

Getting up, you began handing out supplies to the children and cracked a few jokes with them. While you watched over the kids, you glanced up to where Miguel stood a little bit close to the tent as Maggie’s mother walked up behind him, arms crossed.

Uh oh. This can’t be too good.

“Miguel! How great it is to see you!” She exclaimed, a smile straining on her face.

“The feeling is mutual, Susan.” Miguel said plainly.

“Saw your daughter out there and wanted to ask if you could tell her to pass it to her teammates more, my Maddie hasn’t had a chance.”

Miguel raised a brow at her.

“If you were paying attention, the ball’s been passed to everyone,” Miguel defended.

“Maybe you should tell her to stop going for my daughter’s ankles, she could actually focus on the game.” Miguel rebutted, a scowl forming on Susan’s face before disappearing and replaced with a fake smile.

“Oh it’s just kids being kids, not sure if you actually knew or just had nothing working up there.”

“I do but, I do love how you just don’t care about what anyone thinks of you.” Miguel jabbed, crossing his arms.

“That’s so crazy because I was thinking the exact same thing every time you wear that shirt, brave choice.”

“Thank you, I wish I could be as relaxed as you are about messiness.”

You could tell that this wasn’t going to end until they were physically pulled apart from each other. Though you did find it hot whenever Miguel got like this, whether it was fighting off single, married, divorced or Susan — whatever she was. You put one of the seemingly older girls in charge, promising extra snacks and walked up to your boyfriend trying to diffuse the situation.

“Hey Susan, don’t mind me, just need some extra hands with the girls, enjoy the game” you chirped, gently grabbing Miguel’s waist and gave him a knowing glance. He huffed, cursing in Spanish under his breath and turned to walk away until he quickly turned back to Susan after she crudely, a smug look on her face.

“Qué dijiste?”

(what did you say?)

Oh no.

“I said-“

“I know what you said gringa. Do not speak bad about y/n just because you and your husband are in marriage counseling,” Miguel hissed. Susan gasped, placing a hand on her chest and was about to speak more, but you quickly interrupted.

“Okay so we’re gonna go this way now, right babe?” You said, looking at Miguel who only glared daggers into the woman. “Yeah, let’s go.”

You both walked over back to the tent, Susan stood watching you before stomping off back to her own. Letting out a sigh of relief that it was over, you payed the older girl with the promised extra snacks. The girls had returned back to their team’s tent at the coaches call, some getting ready for their positions. You turned to your side were Miguel who quietly seething. Placing an arm on his shoulder and bringing your heads together.

“Did I take it too far?” Miguel muttered under his breath. You chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“A little bit, but she said some not so nice things as well sweetheart.”

Miguel grumbled before ultimately allowing himself to be pet by you, a slight pout on his lips. Even if he got a little angry sometimes, he always showed some remorse for his words, which made you love him even more.

“C’mon love, the game's about to start and I want to get the winning shot from Gabriella.” You cooed, wrapping a hand around his and sat back into your seats. The referee blew the whistle signaling that the break was over and both teams ran back onto the field. Gabriella wasn’t in the center anymore, but was placed far out on the left side of the field. Once the ball was kicked into play, the fierce battle for state champs went on.

The opposing team did better this round, but it wasn’t enough against Gabriella’s team and the match only got more heated from there. Miguel had gone to join the other parents out on the sidelines, cheering and shouting encouraging words to the team. You smiled fondly at his enthusiasm and took a couple of pictures of him out in the field and returned to filming the last few moments of the game.

Soon the game reached a boiling point with the last few minutes in the game, where one of Gabriella’s teammates was cornered by the other team. Dribbling the ball around before seeing Gabriella signaling to pass the ball to her, nodding as she kicked the ball in her direction. Gabriella sprinted after the ball and weaved between a defender, legs burning as she ran faster. Sizing up the goalie she pauses and readies her swing, aiming for the upper right net. The goalkeeper sees this and just as she was about to kick, she reaches high to stop her only to realize that she had been juked, feeling the ball whiz past her left side.

The timer stopped and Gabriella’s team erupted in cheers, surrounding her as she excitedly jumped up into the air. You and Miguel did the same with him shouting and loudly proclaiming, “That’s my Gabby! Ese es mi hija!” Clapping his hands and whistling as a few parents laughed and joined. Gabriella turned to help the opposing goalie off the grass and thanked her for the game before taking off to your tent.

Miguel fell to his knees and opened his arms to embrace Gabriella, praising and congratulating her on winning. He then lifted her into the air, doing a little spin before placing her on her shoulders. You cooed at the display, making sure to record every minute of it until Gabriella pointed at you, wanting for you to join them. You walked towards them, pumping your fists in the air before opening your palm for her to hit.

“Did you see? Did ya see me hit that shot?!” She excitedly yelled, hitting your palm and wrapping her hands around it, shaking it profusely.

“Of course! Got it all on video, haha” You laughed, going to tickle her side.

“How does it feel to be state champ, champ?” You asked, watching her think about it before laughing.

“It feels great! I knew I was always gonna win because O’Hara’s always win! Right, Papa?” She giggled, bending down to look at Miguel’s face.

“That’s right mija, you did amazing out there. I’ll always be proud of you, even if you were to lose cariña.” Miguel said warmly, bringing her off his shoulders to hug her once more, pulling you in as well. You wrapped your hand around the both of them, pecking them on the head before breaking.

“Haha let’s celebrate! Go and invite your team for some ice cream down the street.” You said, patting her back. “We can take a few with us if their parents don’t mind. It’s on me!”

“No, it’s on me amor.” Go and tell the mija,” Miguel attested, beginning a small fight over who gets to pay for the children, ending with you ultimately letting him win and sharing a kiss. Gabriella groaned at your display of affection before smiling and running off to tell her friends.

You both watched on as the team erupted in cheers, some running off to tell their parents while others packed their stuff to join Gabriella.

“You wanted to be the cool one with the kids, didn’t you?” You purred into his ear. Miguel looked away with a small blush on his face, embarrassed to be caught.

“Those kids already love you, amor. They think I’m the scary one.” Miguel pouted, to which you softly laughed.

“You’ve got a point, love. They just haven’t seen you outside your grouch form.”

Miguel rolled his eyes at your joke, a small smiling creeping on his face. You both talked with the few children that decided to join Gabriella. Taking down your set up, you all marched back to the minivan and loaded everything into the car. The children talked amongst each other as Miguel drove towards the ice cream shop. You placed a hand on his thigh, giving him a soft smile. Miguel returned your smile with his own which was followed by some giggles. Gabriella whining for you both not to be gross and in love in front of her friends.

The car was filled with laughter as you continued on to your destination, leaving the sun behind.

continue? if you must, but don’t if you wish to remain in la la land, no one will blame you.

(it’s short don’t worry :])

a/n: whaaaa I loved making this one, got me squealing while making this. per usual, i hope y’all like this one. it’s a bit out of the norm of me writing smut here, but this was fun to write. i will now be continuing working on your guys requests that you’ve sent in since this is completed.

up next: reader request! villain reader x miguel o’hara?? dun, dun, duuunnnnn.

[feyhunter78]

Lab Partners

(Image taken from Pinterest, I believe the artist is teletwobees) More Nerd!Miguel here

Also, plz feel free to ask me about college/nerd!miguel bc he is in my thoughts now

Regret, that’s what you’re feeling as you bury your face in your arms, the lab table cool against your skin. You should’ve brought a jacket, but you didn’t have time, just raced out of your apartment to your car in leggings and a t-shirt with your letters printed across the back in purple and white bubble letters.

“Y/N are—are you okay?” Miguel’s voice is soft, the sound of his chair scraping against the floor not as soft, your head aching, pain piercing through your brain at the noise.

Your stomach rumbles and a wave of fatigue washes over you as you lift your head to look at him. “Got dragged to the bar last night.”

He’s wearing a soft looking, long sleeve dark blue shirt, the sleeves pushed up exposing his forearms, his glasses flecked with raindrops, his hair is tousled and slightly damp curling slightly at the ends.

“On a Thursday night?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing as he unpacks the lab equipment.

“It’s the night everyone goes out, I don’t know why, and I hate it.” You whine, massaging your temples.

Miguel’s large warm hand presses against your forehead, and you startle for a moment, causing him to jolt back, stuttering apologies.

“I—I just wanted to make sure you weren’t sick.” He says, a light dusting of pink across his tanned cheekbones.

He’s got great cheekbones, really, he’s got great everything. Maybe it’s just the hangover talking, but you really want to kiss him. Well, you’ve wanted to kiss him since he sat next to you on the first day of class. And when he slid his notes over to you the month after when he saw you struggling to keep up with the professor’s supersonic lecturing speed.

“I mean, a hangover is a kind of sickness, I’m pretty sure.” You say, your own face burning, but you can’t tell if it from his touch or the hangover.

“Don’t they say to drink something for a hangover? A Bloody Mary or a mimosa? I heard the café off campus sells them until noon.” He suggests, nerves coloring his tone.

Is he trying to ask you out? No, he can’t be. He’s Miguel, the genius, shy and sweet, and definitely not interested in you, and your hectic, dramatic life with sisters you both love and hate depending on what week it is.

“Can’t drink in letters.” You tell him, fumbling for your water bottle and taking a long drink, your eyes fluttering closed as the cool water soothes your sore throat.

“Really?” He asks, and his eyes are on you when you open yours, lingering on your lips, then darting away.

“Yep, it’s like the number one rule for all sororities all across the U.S. movies always get it wrong, really pisses me off.” You grumble, putting your water bottle back in your bag and trying to muster the energy to focus on the assignment in front of you.

“Interesting.” Miguel says, taking his glasses off and cleaning them with the hem of his shirt.

Like an absolute pervert, your eyes shoot down to the exposed sliver of skin. Tanned and toned, you swallow hard as you rip your eyes away.

“Yep, Hollywood, they always try to make us look like drunk sluts. And look, I may be drunk occasionally, but I’m not a slut.”

Miguel’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “I would never call you that—never think you were one, ever.”

You smile and pat his shoulder. “I know, Miguel, you’re too sweet for that.” You can’t help but let your hand drag down to his bicep, his stupidly firm bicep. “My sweet boy.”

His glasses clatter onto the lab table and Miguel scrambles to pick them up, slipping them back on. “Did you get to finish your assignment yet?”

You screw your eyes closed, swearing under your breath. “That’s what I forgot.”

“It’s due tomorrow.” He reminds you.

You nod and press the back of your hand to your forehead, willing your headache to recede. “Yes, yes, I know, I just shit, I totally forgot, and I’ve been so busy, we have this major philanthropy event coming up, and I’ve been up till two am all week helping paint the banner and I really don’t get anything we’re doing in here.”

You pause, sniffling, your eyes welling with tears, as you bite the inside of your cheek trying to keep from crying in the back of the lab.

“I could help you?” Miguel offers tentatively, fidgeting with his pen, his eyes darting between you and the table.

“Really? Miguel, that would be amazing.” You say, unable to resist the urge to lean over and wrap your arms around him.

He smells good, like expensive cologne, and old books.

You take a moment longer than necessary to pull back, basking in his warmth, in the way his strong arms wrap loosely around you before he gains the courage and crushes you to his chest.

“It’s no problem, why don’t we meet in the library around four? It looks like you’re almost done with it, so we shouldn’t be there for too long.” His voice low, calm, and warm vibrates in his chest, and you relax into his hold before pulling back and nodding.

“That would be perfect, thank you.” You beam at him, headache receding, the knot in your stomach unraveling, there’s something about him that’s so comforting, makes you feel safe.

He nods and focuses in on the PowerPoint the professor is going over. He looks so handsome, warm brown eyes flickering over the typed words, his broad shoulders still half turned towards you, his full lips parted ever so slightly as he mumbles to himself.

You rest your chin in your hand and watch him out of the corner of your eye, unable to keep from daydreaming about what it might be like to be his.

Miguel is going places, you know it. And you? You’ve always thought it might be fun to be a trophy wife, maybe Miguel needed a trophy wife?

You can see it now, standing next to him in a gorgeous red dress, your hand around his bicep as he accepts some award for genetics. You can almost feel his lips against yours as he thanks you for your support and dips you old movie style.

“Y/N I’ll see you at four, yeah?” Miguel’s voice pulls you from your daydreams. Class is over, you’ve taken zero notes, and he definitely caught you zoning out.

You nod, and quickly gather your things. “Yeah, yeah four, I’ll meet you there!”

(Also ummm I was in a sorority my entire time at college, so I am actually the expert and Hollywood gets everything soooo wrong it makes me legit angry😭)

Miguel TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps

[bits-and-babs]

𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 – 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

↳ summary: Miguel, believing he understands the extent of his mutation, takes a bite. Only- you don't react the way he expects. At all.

↳ pairing: Miguel O'Hara x f!Reader

↳ content [4.2k]: 18+ MDNI. SMUT, literally 4k words of porn without plot with a little extra at the end. Miguel's venom is sex pollen (therefore DUB-CON by default), biting, blood drinking (I know he’s not a vampire, I don’t care), oral (f receiving), fingering, use of name mami because I am disgusting, unprotected p in v sex. Not proof read, possibly OOC, I haven't seen ITSV, I was forced to write this against my will (jk) ((but not really)).

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Crimson burns itself into your retinas as Miguel steps into your line of sight, and the spider-skull hybrid symbol emblazoned across his vast chest swallows your vision. Brown locks of hair drape across his forehead, over his lashes, and frames the intense scarlet gaze he levels you with. Staring up at the impossibly tall man through your heavy lids, you catch the tick in his jaw, the muscle twitching when he reaches towards your neck and traces his fingertip across the length of your jugular vein with a delicate touch. It tickles, skittering across your goosepimpled skin above your bludgeoning pulse.

"Shut it," he speaks flatly, the quiet lilt of his tone amplified by the silence in the room. Your heart thuds painfully hard against your ribs at the sound of his voice, your toes curling when Miguel settles his thumb and forefinger under the curve of your jaw. His palm stretches the length of your throat, fingers splayed across your neck. You can feel the knuckles of his pinky dig into your collarbone, a reminder of just how massive the wingspan of his hand is. 

"I- I didn't-" you fumble, the words dissipating when you see the fleshy pink of Miguel's tongue drag over the enamel daggers that protrude from his lips. The slight squeeze of his hand across your throat impedes any attempts to regain your train of thought, blood rushing to your head as he applies pressure to the vital blood flow to your brain. 

"I can hear you," he insists, a snarl curling his lips as bitter irritation flashes across his face, burning in the carmine of his irises, "Can hear what you're thinking."

Heat floods your cheeks, prickling warmth proliferating and creeping down your throat. Miguel seems anguished by the sensation of your heart palpitations pounding against the fissures of his palm, his thick, dark brows pinching together as he wets his full lips with the flat of his tongue. 

"Stay still," he urges you, a twinge of something that sounded as though he was pleading sparking through your nervous system. Crushing your eyelids closed, red and navy rotate in kaleidoscopic swirls in your vision as you feel Miguel's hair brush against the curve of your cheek. You whimper softly and flinch at the sensation of the tip of his nose skirting the angle of your neck. You hear him inhale, drawing the intoxicating scent of you into his lungs before letting out a groan, the exhale fanning across your skin. 

"Just a taste," he husks, mindless as he squeezes your neck harder. The pad of Miguel's thumb probes your thrumming pulse, and he moans loudly when he feels your heart lurch at the soft drag of his fangs against your throat. 

"Miguel-" you choke out, his feral grip tightening at the sound of your voice. 

"Fuck," he whispers, whimpers, slowly sinking the point of his fangs into the delicate flesh across the nape of your neck. You cry out, the pain of the punctures pinching sharply, and bury your nails into the expansive muscle of his bicep. Miguel's chest heaves dramatically, brushing your arm with each shuddering inhale as your blood seeps across his tongue. 

It's an odd sensation, the suction of his lips as he draws your ichor into his mouth, but it simmers deep and low in your abdomen, the weird feeling made worse by the vibration of his delighted moan. The gulping sounds his throat made echo in your ears, and you can almost imagine the flutter of his thick lashes as he lathes his tongue over the puncture wounds. 

Miguel inhales deeply as though he's chugged a pint of water, his lips barely departing from your weeping wound as he mumbles to himself repeatedly; just a taste, just a taste–

His wanton tone dries your mouth, your head throbbing with a mind-numbing migraine as you feel the muscles in your body tense. Coated in blood, Miguel chases the blood that had settled into the cracks of his lips with his tongue and savours the last morsels he can find.  

You could cry. Could burst into tears on the spot because Miguel looks gorgeous. He always did, always made your stomach flip when he entered the room and cast his brooding gaze over you, but you felt breathless as you gazed at him now, weightless. 

Fuck, he's so beautiful. His rich, dark features all fight for your attention; the arc of his cheekbones, long lashes dipped low as he takes you in and the way his obscenely large muscles ripple as he leans back to look you in the eyes. 

Blinking slowly, you whine when Miguel leans back into your throat for another taste. Something warm pools in the depths of your stomach when his tongue drags over the chords of your neck. Fuck- are you turned on right now?!

"Hng-Hot," you mumble in embarrassment, feeling a prickling warmth creep over your body. The damp sensation of perspiration clings to your forehead, moistening your hairline as Miguel pulls away from your throat to look you in the eye with a hmm?

"Hot," you repeat, the simmering sensation rapidly roiling to a scalding temperature. "'S too hot, Miguel–"

The fabric of your clothes clings to your back, your fingers itching to rip the material from your body. Miguel looks perplexed by your sudden lack of composure, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion as his eyes flick between your own. 

"Your pupils," he assesses, tone clinical as he reaches to take your chin into his hand once more, "They're dilated– you look sick."

The instant his fingertips brush the skin of your cheeks, you flinch from the scorching sensation that sparks beneath his touch. You pinch your eyelids together, letting out a sob of his name as you frantically attempt to push him away. 

"Miguel, no!" Your voice strains, pleading that Miguel stays away from you despite the evident worry that curls his fingers into tight fists. Fuck, why are you thinking of jumping his bones? It's desperate, a carnal need to rip that stupid fucking fancy lycra suit from his enormous, sexy muscles. You could grind your hips across those abs, ease the sudden pulse in your clit-

You wheeze, the stifling temperature causing your body to shift to autopilot as you pinch the hem of your shirt between your trembling fingers. "Hurts–"

"I cannot help if you push me awa-" Miguel's vexed attempt to reprimand your childish behaviour does little to knock you back to your senses, your eyes dragging the length of his ridiculously formed body with a searing desperation that stops him in his tracks. "What are you doing?"

"Hot, it's too fucking hot, Migu– Shut up–" you beg him for silence, his voice only worsening the frantic, irregular thrum of your heart. It's fruitless, though, because the flitting of his eyes across your body is enough to arc the arousal that blooms through you. 

Concern finally begins to worm its way into Miguel's body language, his hands searching over the messy countertops. He clears his throat, attempting to maintain his composure. 

"Blood sample," he speaks with that air of finality he always led with, "I will take a blood sample. You may be having a reaction to somethi-"

Shame does little to reason with your wandering hands, yanking your t-shirt over your head as he speaks. You're following what he says, but your mind lags behind like a faulty video-call signal. Blood sample, mhm-hmm, yeah, god, you wanna fuck him so bad– reaction?

When you finally pull your head from the neckline of your t-shirt, you find Miguel rooted in place. A needle rests in his loose grip, and he holds it aloft as if ready to take the sample from your arm– but it appears his plan is obliterated as his eyes zero in on your tits, his usually stoic expression rendered astonished by the view in front of him.

"... It's the venom," he rasps, slowly, achingly slowly, dragging his eyes back to your face, "You're reacting to the venom." 

Perhaps it should be a relief that Miguel is a genius and that he'd managed to deduce the reason for your severe discomfort reasonably quickly, or maybe you should feel more concerned that you're experiencing a severe reaction to a venom that he held in his fucking teeth, but the sheer desperation to ease the arousal pooling between your thighs overtook any and all fear. Instead, you frenziedly shove your hand down the waistband of your jeans... Right in front of Miguel. 

"Aye- easy, easy–" he attempts to placate you, but once again, he finds himself lost for words as he watches you flop back into your desk chair, head lolled back and thighs spread wide as you undeniably rub at your clit beneath the denim of your jeans. 

"Ahaaa-" you wail, tears welling in your eyes and slipping down your temples as you rock your hips up to meet the friction of your fingertips, "S'not enough, Miguel- it's not enou- it hurts." 

It's disgusting; the wet squelch of your fingers entering your cunt practically bouncing off the walls. An anguished groan rattles in your chest as you cum. The sensation is as though your orgasm has been spoilt, the ecstasy that accompanied a climax instead curdling into a painful need for more. Slick weeps into the crotch of your panties and jeans, and you rip your hand from your jeans to tear the whole stupid item of clothing over your hips as they arch off the seat. 

"Cariño," you hear Miguel's soft voice urge you to look at him, and your vision blurs as you glance up with tear-soaked eyelashes. You sob when your eyes finally focus, observing the blackness of Miguel's eyes as he watches you get off. The wet sounds get louder, more hurried as you frantically rub your clit at the sight of him, the sound of his voice.

"I can help you," he promises, voice firm. The declaration pulls another devastatingly cruel orgasm from you, your back arching off the seat as if attempting to escape the brutally painful orgasm that does nothing to satiate the toxins Miguel had accidentally inserted into your bloodstream. 

"Yes," you pant loudly, tears streaming down your face as you nod your head wildly in agreement. The ethics of this agreement, sex with him, are lost on you at this moment, far too occupied with the notion of stopping the debilitating clench of your cunt and nerve-searing heat beneath your skin. 

Miguel says nothing as he strides forward, crossing the line of demarcation you had drawn between the two of you effortlessly with his broad stride. His hands immediately find the waistband of your jeans, where they settle just above your knees, and shucks them from your legs as you continue to appeal for mercy. 

"Please," you beg, grasping the arms of the office chair so hard that they threaten to splinter between your fingers. Miguel simply scowls at you from his position between your thighs, kneeling down on the floor and peeling back your drenched panties to gain access to your dripping, fluttering cunt. "Please, Migu-ughhh!" 

Miguel leads with his tongue, pulling the entire length across your engorged clit so slowly that your toes cramp when they curl. You sob loudly, fat tears streaking down your cheeks and throat as you rock your hips up against his face. It's rough and messy, and your clit bumps his nose each time you thrust upwards despite the vice-like grip that Miguel holds on your thighs. 

"Oh my god-" you keen, your fingers grasping onto the hair at the crown of his head to brace against the onslaught of pleasure that drenches you, "Oh fu-fuhuck- don'tcumdon'tcum-" you ramble, eyes rolling back into your skull as the tip of his tongue draws lazy circles around your clit.

"F-Fuck- fuck me-" you wheeze, expelling all the oxygen from your lungs when his fingers prod at the slick entrance of your pussy. 

"Shut up," he rasps, slowly sinking the first two joints of his index finger into your wet heat. He watches your hips raise, thighs spreading wide as you wordlessly whine. "Do not speak."

It's cruel, but there's no malice to his words because he shifts his wrist slightly and sinks the entire length of his index finger into you. You rock forwards to meet it, feeling yourself clench around the intrusion. Miguel can feel it too, you're sure of it, because he lets out a devastatingly sexy hum before dropping his head down to tongue your clit again. 

You try; you truly do, but the mixture of Miguel's tongue on your clit and his fingertip just barely missing a calamitous spot inside you launches the words from your throat before you can stop them. 

"F-Please-" you gasp, "Please let me taste you. Ohh- please don't stop- j-just put it in my mouth, I wanna feel the stretch of it in my thro–" 

"Quiet," Miguel snaps, his voice strained as he pulls back from your clit but hastens his finger's movements. It's there- it's right fucking there, that spot inside you that you know will eviscerate every atom in your body. Your head falls back again, your spine lifting from the chair as you brace against the rising threat of your orgasm. 

"I'm- Oh fuck, I-aham gonna cum-" you sob towards the ceiling, rocking your hips down and taking his maddeningly long digit even deeper. Miguel hums in acknowledgement, resting his still tongue on your clit for you to fuck yourself on. The barbarically wet sound of you sinking onto the length of his finger reaches your ears and–

Sudden, painful bliss bursts through you, a garbled slur of Miguel's name tearing through your throat as static rings in your ears. You feel yourself clench and flutter around his fingers, Miguel's tongue lapping at your pulsing clit and hurling you even further into the rapture that streams through your body. 

Your thighs tremble on either side of his head, knees draped over his robust shoulders. Miguel groans softly and licks and sucks on the mess you've made, slick smeared all over his mouth, chin and nose. You can barely move, your muscles screaming in exhaustion, but-

"M-Miguel-" you whine, shaking your head with tears in your eyes, "M-more, I need more-" 

"Dios mío, mami," he groans into your cunt, and you see white. His oddly affectionate name for you resets your orgasm, and you're teetering over it again. Your feet brace against his back, pushing your heels into the thick, chorded muscles to pull him impossibly closer to your pussy. It's as though your hips have a mind of their own, grinding feverishly against Miguel's pretty nose. 

Through the blur of your ecstasy, you see Miguel's brows lift in surprise in a wordless question of 'already?' It's all you need, euphoria smashing through every nerve ending and setting them ablaze. It soaks his face even more, you feel it gush, and Miguel rumbles with the most delectable groan. At the peak of your orgasm, he inserts a second finger. It brushes against that mind-bending spot inside you that makes your body writhe when the ridges of his fingertips tease the neglected pleasure centre. 

Strands of your hair cling to your sweat-damp face, dried tear tracks wetted again by the flow of more of the salty liquid from your eyes. You look absolutely wrecked; you feel it. So why did your clit still pulse with need when Miguel withdrew his cum-soaked face? 

"God, I wanna fuck you so bad," you ramble, voice stripped hoarse by your constant barrage of whines and moans. 

Glancing down, you note the tight pinch of Miguel's eyebrows. He's straining against the skin-tight material of the suit, the thin canvas clinging to his body so well that you see the lurch of his cock as he licks your cum from his lips. "We should do this all the time-"

Miguel rudely interrupts you, using his godlike strength to effortlessly hoist you from that stupid office chair. He doesn't bother taking you somewhere comfortable, your panting breaths and writhing hips evidence you wouldn't last the thirty-second walk to the sofa. Instead, he drapes you over his workbench, discarding the invaluable equipment over the table's edge and spreading your thighs wide. 

"Never again," Miguel insists, but he'd already revealed his weak constitution at the beginning of the ludicrous mess. Just a taste, he'd said, before leaning in for more of your blood. That same lack of self-discipline infects him now; you can see it in his eyes as he strips himself of the ridiculous spider suit and presses his cock against your fluttering cunt. 

You can feel it, the size of the bulbous head that sweeps through your slick folds. It brushes over your clit, the velvety skin rendering you helpless to the heavenly pleasure that bursts through you. But-

"It's not- it's not gonna go in-" you whimper softly, stretching your arms out to push his hips away desperately. "Oh god, Miguel- I can't take that-"

"You will," he nods firmly with a jut of his chin. He's determined; his eyes alight when you writhe beneath him. It's so loud, the sound of your leaking cunt soaking the underside of his cock in your slick. "You're drenching me, Cariño; you can take it."

Miguel notches at your entrance for emphasis, lightly pushing against where your flesh gives way to his adamant intrusion. The smooth, rounded head threatens to sink inside of you, stretch you impossibly wide. "Dios-" Miguel grunts, bowing his head low. His shoulders tremble, hips frozen in place as he takes deep, shuddering breaths. Wha-

"What's wrong?" You stiffen at the worrying body language he's displaying. Had you done something wrong? Did he not want to go through with it now-?

Another quivering exhale expels from Miguel's lungs, his huge hands gripping onto your hips as though they were the only thing preventing him from plunging from the side of a New York skyscraper. It's bruising you, ten sharp points jabbing into your skin, but the pain encourages the pleasure. It's too much. 

"So fucking tight," Miguel wheezes, rocking his hips forward slightly. He's met with resistance despite how your head hangs from the edge of the desk, wailing a mixture of profanities and his name at the ceiling. "It's too fucking tight, mami; you gotta relax-"

"Miguel!" You sob in anguish, tears sliding from the corners of your eyes settle in the hair at your temples. "It hurts- I need it so bad, c-can't wait- just fucki-" 

A snarl rips up Miguel's throat, using his grip on your flesh to pull your hips back onto his as he plunges forward. You see his nostrils flare, the flash of his fangs before the white-hot bliss rocks through you, his cock slipping past your walls and burying itself to the hilt in one heavy push. 

Your sharp inhale stretches the mass of your lungs as your fingers dig into the tanned skin of his forearms. Pain stabs through your abdomen, and the sudden thrust ripples pain through your expression before the excruciating arc of bliss surges when you feel the head of his cock nudge against your cervix. 

"Holy shit-" you squeak out, nails stabbing bloody crescent moons into the rippling muscles you hold onto, "I can-ahan't! Fuck, Miguel, you- hgnnnn fuck!"

It's as though Miguel loses control of his hips. He begins to ram into you, his flesh slapping against your own and echoing and ricocheting off the walls. Damp sweat already clings to his body from the exertion, each harsh slam into you pushing your trembling body up the length of his desk. 

"Hah," he gasps out when you involuntarily squeeze around the girth of his cock, Miguel's eyes snapping to your own in a frenzy, "So tight for me, Cariño. This little cunt's so greedy for me." 

The pistoning of his throbbing cock into your sickeningly wet pussy has your mind spinning, the velvet of his voice numbing your mind like some kind of neurotoxin. You're drenching the both of you, the thighs you'd locked around his waist slipping down his hips as you struggle to brace against the onslaught of your arousal. 

"M-Miguel-!" You croak, voice wrecked. 

His dark eyebrows pinch together as he continues his devastating pace. "So fucking greedy. Always looking at me with those eyes. You think I don't- fuck- don't hear your dirty thoughts about me?" 

Whining loudly, the embarrassment does little to quell the rising orgasm that prickles the edges of your body. It feels enormous, threatens to tear your body apart at the seams and stitch you back together all wrong. Like you'd never feel complete again without the delicious stretch of Miguel's cock.

"I can feel it," Miguel murmurs, voice uncharacteristically soft despite the way he's brutalising your cunt, "Can you? I can feel you squeezing me- fuck, you're so fucking wet, mami-"

"S-Shut up–" you hiccup, voice sounding distant to your own ears. It feels like your nails have burrowed down to the calcium of Miguel's radius and ulna, your grip vice-like as you steel against the terrifying sensation of a universe-altering orgasm quickly approaching. 

Miguel's neck flexes, veins bulging against his bronzed skin as the swell threatens to take over. 

"Come on. Ah, fuck- fuck, you're gonna cum again. Come on," he urges you, dark eyes flitting over you as Miguel reaches to push the pad of his thumb against your clit. 

It barely brushes the fraught nerves before ecstasy settles between each of your vertebrae. Your pussy flares, gripping onto the throbbing thickness of him. Shaking violently, your thighs squeeze Miguel's waist as everything tightens, pulses, spasms. Anguished, pained wails pour from your lips in a deluge, jaw slack, debilitating ecstasy rendering you utterly helpless to the instinctual motions of your body. You're rocking up against him while simultaneously attempting to escape the sensation. 

A rumble vibrates through Miguel's chest as he dips his head low, sweat-drenched ebony strands of his hair falling in his eyes as he focuses on how you tighten around him. 

"Oh fuck, yes," Miguel's voice pierces through your mind-numbing bliss, all lilted and pitchy, "That's it, mami, that's what I need- th-that- oh fuck–"

It's a heavenly sight, the way his body flexes and ripples above you as he buries his cock into you, down to the hilt. Miguel's dark, gorgeous eyes roll back in his head, eyelashes fluttering as his orgasm is pulled from him. You feel the hot, thick spurts of cum paint your walls as he empties his load over and over and over. You're exhausted, powerless to do anything other than bathe in the sensation of your cunt convulsing around Miguel's throbbing cock. 

A heavy exhale fans across your face as Miguel's hands settle on either side of your head, the two of you fighting to draw oxygen into your burning lungs. The blazing need that had charred your abdomen ebbs into smothered embers, and you peer up at Miguel with a mindless, dazed expression. 

He doesn't move, his softening cock still buried in your cunt as his hands tighten into fists beside your ears. Miguel opens his eyes, a heavy glare aiming at the corner of the room, at nothing in particular, as he attempts to come down from whatever height you'd thrown him to. 

"That-... That's not what's supposed to happen."

☆☆☆

Bright, florescent lights beat down on you in the doctor's office, and you squint against their intrusion in your eyes but also the dull, painful throb of your brutalised cunt. You should be curled up in bed, mortified by the mindblowing sex you'd just had with Miguel and drafting up a text message to tell him you will never be seeing him again due to the ruinous humiliation you felt every time you recalled the stupid shit you'd said. 

Instead, you were simmering in that very same awkwardness, but with Miguel settled back in the seat beside you. He's wallowing in his own form of abashed grief as he awaits the results of your blood tests from the man in the white coat across the table from you. 

"Aha, here we go!" The indecently cheery doctor cuts through the tense, funeral-like atmosphere that had settled between the both of you. The mouse in his hand clicks as he sorts through the file, reading it through. "They've just come in now." 

"Is it anything I should be worried about?" Miguel speaks before you can draw breath, and you don't fail to note the word I. Why is he worried?!

"No, not at all," the doctor smiles, glancing between the two of you as he taps the computer screen with his finger. You can feel Miguel settle, the tense energy that had been drawing his shoulders up tight seeming to dissipate with the threat of danger ruled out. 

... What? 

"Elevated heart rate, the sweats, shivers, flushed skin, pain," the doctor reads through your list of symptoms that Miguel had given before you'd even stepped into the doctor's office. Conveniently, he'd left out the more obvious traits that had taken precedence over the milder afflictions. "While these are all very scary, it's not much to worry about."

"So then, what happened?" Your voice is a mumble, hoarse from the strain of your activities with Miguel.

The doctor smiles, a shrug lifting his shoulders to evidence his lack of concern. "Says here you just have an allergy to spider bites."

Miguel, usually stoic and indecipherable, sinks into his seat with an expression that bleeds mortification.

... Oh. 

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[intoxicated-chan]

Miguel O’Hara with a somnophilia kink x f!reader

Restless Night

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel can’t help himself, even with your past words.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Short, sweet, and smutty!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 500

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, consensual somnophilia kink, nipple sucking, biting kink, blood…

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

Miguel stares as your chest rises up and down, over and over again… The way your lips parted and how your breath abruptly hitched in your sleep.

He watches you turn over on your side. The tank top you wore exposed your chest greatly, if it fell a little further down then he could get a clear view of your breasts.

He could feel the discomfort in his pants become difficult to ignore, the more he stares, the more it grows.

“Are you… Sure?”

“Miguel, I told you it’s completely fine. I know that you’re up all night long and letting you use me whenever. I give you my permission, I’m perfectly fine with it.”

Even with your words, and your consent, he still feels that guilt when he pulls your tank top down.

His eyes are instantly drawn to your breasts, he pushes you into your back and takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking.

His tongue circled your nipple before he bites down, but not hard enough.

He adjusts his position, between your legs and just crotch pressed up against yours.

As he continues sucking on your nipples, giving each the same attention, he grinds up against you.

His hands remained to your sides, but it wasn’t long before his hands moved. He claws at your shirt carefully, ripping it into pieces, allowing him full access to your upper body.

He could hear your heart beating faster, he could feel your body growing hot and how you begin to move in your sleep.

Your eyes squeezed, you were close to waking up. It added to his pleasure, how you could wake up any second and see what he’s doing.

Your hips buck as he grinds. He pulls away from your breasts, his hands fumbling with your pants until finally he gets them off.

He could smell you... How wet you are.

God, you were so intoxicating.

But Miguel did enjoy taking his time with moments like these.

He turns his attention to your neck, out and exposed. In an instant, he’s latched onto it, his teeth puncturing your flesh.

Your eyes snapped open and before you could say anything, one of his hands was clamped over your mouth.

You let out a pained moan, muffled.

“The things you do to me.” He said once he removed himself, “The insanity you drive me to.”

One of your hands comes to the one over your mother and the other on his shoulder. You try to pull him away, “Are you okay?” He asks. You could see your blood at the corners of his mouth.

You nod.

His hands go back to your breasts, squeezing and massaging them.

You sneak your hand down to his crotch, palming him through his pants. He lets out breathy moans but he grabs your wrist.

“You take care of me…” You could see it in his eyes, “Ahora déjame cuidar de ti.” (Now let me take care of you.)

How clouded they were by lust.

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copy, translated, or put my work on any other platform without my permission.

[dreamingofbucky]

UNO MÁS

Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader (one shot)

summary: He knew you couldn't resist him. Round after round, you were his to enjoy. And you couldn't lie and say you didn't enjoy it as well. He just needed one more.

tags/content warnings: Miguel is unhinged and feral. Fangs come out. primal need to satisfy himself. Overstimulation. p in v. creampie. implied multiple orgasms. size kink. loves to press on your belly to see his bulge. he's not done until he says he's done. slight web bondage if you squint.

Word Count: 1.3k

author's note: not beta read. it's almost midnight and so I'm calling this dreamingofbucky's midnight miguel thots. enjoyyyy slutss

Miguel loved the way you clenched around his cock. 

The wanton cries that left your lips with every snap of his hips. It sounded like a beautiful symphony in his ears. It just made him want to pound into you even more. 

For you, this fifth orgasm was all you could muster. Yet, here he was attempting to go for one more round to drag out some more moans and uno más for him.

His Spanish words came fumbling out as he came once more, jutting his hips into yours and you were needing him out and off of you. 

“Miguel,” you whined, attempting to drag your arms down to his abdomen and push hard. But the effort was futile, he was too strong. 

It didn’t help that with all his super strength that meant it wasn’t only used in situations where he could save the cities that were plagued with anomalies. But he’d use it on you too whenever he had the chance to get you pinned underneath him. 

“Too–too much,” you breathed out, this time extending your nails into his skin, but he didn’t fight back or react. 

“One more for me, por favor. Sé que puedes hacerlo.” 

He wanted you to find your sweet relief one more time. He knew you could do it for him. But your body was spent. Your fucking mind was spent. Not only did your legs feel like jello, but everything else did as well. Even your vision was starting to go. Hazy stars were all you could see dancing around his pretty face. 

One strong hand of his grabbed both of your wrists and moved them above your head. Within a second, he shoots out webs to keep your wrists attached to the headboard. It wasn’t comfortable by any means, but Miguel was past comfort at this point. 

He needed to draw one more orgasm out from you. He didn’t care how much it hurt, he was addicted to your moans, your crying, and your fluttering pussy. 

“F-fuck, need one more, please,” he breathlessly moaned in your ear. 

Your thighs were trembling, you couldn’t think of a response. Whatever came out of your lips at this moment was just a jumbling of words that weren’t coherent in the slightest. 

“Ah, Mig– too much– ffu!” 

He can’t help but chuckle, parting his lips over your bare neck and sinking his fangs into your skin ever so slightly. Not to the point where venom can infiltrate your veins, but where you’d thrash and moan even louder. 

He got off on this shit. Loved you completely cock drunk and relentlessly begging for him. 

“One more, one more, baby,” he coos, lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair from your face. You were so pretty when you were spent like this. If he could remember every expression you’ve had anytime he tore you apart with his cock, he’d lock them up in a file in his mind. 

“Pl-please,” you begged once more, finally attempting to regain focus. You don’t know if this will be the end for you. Will he truly let you rest after this next release or is it all a game? A way to fuck with your head to make you think he’s going to give you mercy but then sweep the rug right from under you at the last moment. 

His large hands search your body like you’re a map to be discovered. Fingers dusting over your pebbled nipples, his mouth finding its home on each breast before moving back to your neck. He licked the wounds from his fangs before sitting up. Hands gripping the sides of your waist, he stared at you. 

Eyes blazing red, fangs still out, and he looked like a god even in your hazy state. 

“Gonna fill you up again, amor. You ready?” 

Before you can protest, he slowly pulls out before growling and slamming his cock straight back into you. He was so big that he hit your cervix every time. He even made it a point to place a palm right over your lower belly, his eyes savage as he took in the bulge that protruded that area with every violent thrust of his. 

Your cunt was soaking wet, covering him in your juices and this just spurred him on. You let out a cry as he continues at his brutal pace. Your wrists became sore from the tension of pushing against the tight-locked web. 

The pressure bloomed in your core and your pussy fluttered once again over his cock, causing him to hang his head back and stare at the ceiling. 

“J-just like that, amor. Fuck, you know how to milk my cock just right, don’t you? How about one more time?” 

You whined again, not being able to control your body as another orgasm pulled through you. You screamed and whimpered at the overstimulation as his pace grew more rapid. The sounds of your bodies slapping together filled the room as well as the wetness that poured out of you with every thrust. 

Miguel looked back down between your bodies and reveled at the scene before him. The thick white outline right at your entrance where his cock was shoving itself with every thrust. He enjoyed seeing his previous releases leaking out of you. It brought out an animalistic side to him. A primal need to keep you stuffed with both his seed and his cock at all hours of the day. 

“Mig-Miguel!” You screamed as his pace quickened with his thoughts and he was grunting even louder, laying himself back to nip at your shoulder, your neck, and then your lips. His hold on you tightened, hands on your plush hips that helped spread your legs a little more for him to dive even further into you if that was even possible. 

“I’m going to–” he grunted, swearing under his breath before his pace grew sloppy and you screamed at the sensitivity and the overstimulation. 

“Please,” you begged, tears springing from your eyes. He kept his eyes locked on yours as he finally came to. His teeth bared, fangs showing and a growl erupted from his lips. One of his hands lifted, talons showing and your eyes widened. But before you can ask what the hell he was doing, you hear a tear and your wrists are free from the web. You use this moment to grab ahold of his neck and bring him closer to you. 

One last thrust and you felt the familiar warmth of his cum spurting into you rope after rope. You’re not sure how you’d been able to hold all of him in, but this might be a new record. 

He stills and collapses over your body. Even with how big and heavy he is, you don’t mind. You like the contact and the feeling of being wrapped up under him. It provided a sense of safety to you. 

“S-so good,” he breathed. 

“No more,” you pleaded in a hushed whisper. 

His breath fans over your skin, causing goosebumps to spread all over. He lifted himself slightly to balance his upper body on his elbows. His eyes were still red, but less intense. His fangs weren’t out either. Maybe this was finally the end of your long night. 

But then the slightest smirk spread on his face. You could practically feel his softening cock start to get erect again. 

You whimpered at the sensation inside you, shifting your hips up and out, hoping he got the message that you were done. You needed him to pull out and let you rest. 

“You’re so pretty when you fall apart in my arms, amor. I need to see it again. Just one more time, please. Para mí.” 

Miguel knew you couldn't say no. Because the moment he leaned down to kiss your cheek and then your lips, your body reacted once more to him. 

Like fine betrayal. 

Your body was meant for Miguel and he knew it. 

[kinkandkreep]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫.

♥︎ 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝑴𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝑶'𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒙 𝑭𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

♥︎ 𝑪𝑾: 𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒊𝒏𝒋𝒖𝒓𝒚, 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅, 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌, 𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇

♥︎ "__" 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

Having an overall shitty time was certainly not on your daily agenda, but such is life.

‘Could be worse,’ you thought as you sank further into the backseat of your taxi. ‘I could be dead.’

The thought came and drifted just as quickly as it arrived, causing you to sigh. You’d have called Miguel to come pick you up or send someone from his company to escort you, but you didn’t yet feel up to withstanding the barrage of questions that were bound to come from Gigi once he saw you looking worn out, or have the chauffeur go blabbing about the way you looked to him before you even mustered up the energy to do so yourself.

A cab was much safer. Besides, if you happened to break out into tears because of your terrible day, the cabby probably wouldn’t care, let alone ask questions. 

As you watched the buildings pass, you unwittingly recalled the events of the day, wincing as the loud harsh voice of your boss played over in your head. 

“That’s the second time today I’ve had to give you these instructions, and it’s the second time you’ve proven your incompetence! Do it right or I’ll have you suspended! Do I make myself clear?”

It wasn’t the first time your boss had raised his voice at you, and for as long as you continued to be employed there, you were almost certain it wouldn’t be the last. Normally, you wouldn’t care, and seeing as you were actually the exact opposite of incompetent, you knew your boss wouldn’t have you suspended, but today for some reason, hearing him fuss had been especially hard on you.

After that, you’d had your coworkers drink spilled all over you, your favorite pen burst and the ink made a mess, you got so caught up at work that you missed the window of opportunity to make an appointment with your perpetually booked optometrist, your period came earlier than expected and it felt like you were cramping everywhere, you accidentally cut yourself while using some scissors, causing you to bleed all over an important file and finally, you were beyond the point of hangry because you’d now gone more than 14 hours without eating anything. 

In short, you were over it.

The seat of the cab was sticking to your clothes a bit, and you tried really hard to convince yourself that it was because you were sweaty (you weren’t, and it wasn’t).

Eventually, your ride stopped in front of your apartment complex. Tiredly thanking the cabby, who of course didn’t respond, you stepped out, barely having secured your belongings and shut the door before the taxi driver sped off, presumably off to his next passenger. 

You took a moment to watch it leave, before sighing and turning to head into your building. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

‘Why did I know this would happen?’

The thought repeats over in your head as you stare at the sign on the elevator reading ‘OUT OF ORDER.’

Unable to muster up the energy to even be pissed about the situation, you simply make your way over to the stairs, trying with every step to mentally prepare yourself for the long, grueling walk up a whopping 4 flights of steps. 

It takes you a little longer than it might on any other day to make it to your floor, but once you do, you practically sprint to your door, never having been more ecstatic about seeing it. 

Fumbling a bit with the key, you finally insert it into the lock, flinging yourself into your apartment and nearly screaming upon seeing a large man sitting on your couch. 

“Jesus! Gigi, I love you, but you really gotta break that habit of not telling me when you plan to come over.” You fully shut the door behind you, putting away your coat and purse.

Miguel, who’d been spread out on the couch, smiled, standing and making his way over to envelope you in a tight hug. 

“Aw, but that would spoil the surprise. Aren’t you happy to see me when I visit?” He pouts down at you, thumbs rubbing small circles into your hips.

“Of course I am. But, I’d be even happier if you didn’t almost give me a stroke when I open the door to find my should-be empty apartment already occupied.”

With that, you pat Miguel’s shoulder, easing out of his hold and beginning to make your way into the kitchen. He follows, taking a seat at the island and watching you as you move about. 

“So, tell me about your day.”

You visibly cringe, the memories beginning to flood through your mind’s eye. 

“Ugh, I’d really rather not.”

Miguel lifts a quizzical brow. “That bad?”

“Worse. But it’s whatever, we all have bad days sometimes. It’s an inevitable part of living.”

You take a sip of your drink, and in any other circumstance, Miguel might comment on the fact that you’re drinking wine directly out of the bottle, but he figures if your day’s been so bad you can’t even talk about it, you probably deserve to be left alone about your questionable drinking habits. 

“Well, that’s no good.” Miguel stands, rounding the island to wrap his arms around your waist and gently squeeze. 

You chuckle, leaning into the embrace. “Yep, no good indeed.”

The two of you stand like that for some moments, and Miguel can sense the slightest tensing of your shoulders. 

“You know, cariño, if you need to cry, that’s perfectly ok.” Miguel speaks in a soft, low tone next to your ear, his chin resting comfortingly on your shoulder. 

You smile, about to thank him for the reassurance, when you feel your throat tightening up. 

Try as you might, you can’t make the feeling go away, and after a few seconds tears are streaming down your cheeks and your chest and shoulders jump with every hiccup. 

“Aw, suéltalo, mi amor. It’s ok.”

Miguel gently turns you so that you’re facing his chest, and immediately you snuggle into him, releasing the day's stress and frustration in salty streaks dampening his shirt. 

For quite a few minutes, you both stand there, Miguel lightly swaying you from side to side in a gesture meant to be comforting. He whispers words of encouragement, both in English and Spanish, his large arms wrapped securely around you and offering you some much needed grounding in the moment. 

“Thank you Gigi,” you speak, voice slightly hoarse from your crying. “I needed that.” 

Miguel chuckles, planting a wet smooch right on your forehead. 

“Of course, mi amor. I think we all need to cry sometimes.” He gives you a small smile, rubbing your arms reassuringly. 

“Now, why don’t we spend the rest of the evening unwinding, hmm?” He turns, guiding you over to the couch. “You sit right here, and I’ll take care of everything. I’ll cook your favorite meal, run you a bath, read you a bedtime story,” he teases, lips tickling your ear and causing you to giggle.

“Don’t worry cariño, I know just how to make you feel better.” 

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

‘If only life could always be like this.’

You sigh, reclining further into the bathtub. Sweet rose and pink peony scented bubbles tingled against your skin, colorful swirls decorating the warm water surrounding you. You were glad to have finally made use of the epsom salt you’d bought before, always being too exhausted from work to find the energy to take a long bath instead of a quick shower. 

You could already feel the soothing effect the salt had on your overworked muscles. The lights in the bathroom were dimmed, creating a much calmer ambience that you found did wonders for your nerves. Lightly scented candles were placed carefully around the room, adding to the atmosphere, and a now nearly empty glass of Romanee sat cradled in your hand.

You couldn’t help but feel spoiled. And a little bloated. 

Miguel had been serious when he said he was going to make your favorite meal. And by favorite, he meant all your favorites. 

What he didn’t have the ingredients to make, he ordered, and once everything was either done or had been delivered, he sat you down and practically hand fed you all manner of hors d’oeuvres and appetizers, a grand entree and finally, a couple of your most favorite, decadent desserts. 

“I’m gonna be too heavy to move tomorrow,” you’d complained, rubbing your steadily aching stomach.

“Don’t worry,” Miguel had laughed. “I’ll carry you.” 

Now here you sat while he tended to the dishes and cleaning. 

Miguel had already firmly told you that you wouldn’t be going to work the following day, and you initially had half a mind to panic about it, but then decided to not and shrugged, agreeing with a simple “ok.”

Everything now felt perfect. 

Except there was one thing, or rather, one person missing. 

“Gigi!” You called out for the man. “Hurry up and come join me! It’s not as enjoyable without you.”

It was quiet for a few moments, before you could hear his footsteps- and laughter- approaching the bathroom. 

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, mi amor.” Miguel closed the door behind himself, beginning to strip. 

You watched as he did, still in awe of his sculpted figure. The feeling never shook, no matter how many times you’d seen him naked. 

Your boyfriend was stunning, and after everything he’d done for you today, you were even more grateful to have him. 

Once he was finished, you scooted forward, allowing him to ease into the tub behind you. You slotted back in between his legs, back pressed to his chest and head resting beneath his chin.

“Ah, much better.” You sighed, causing the both of you to chuckle. 

“I’m glad. Are you feeling better?”

“Very much, all thanks to you.” The two of you met in the middle for a passionate, prolonged kiss, tongues dancing to a familiar tune. 

Finally separating, you turned to lean against Miguel again, and for the next 15 or so minutes, there you sat- mostly in very comfortable silence, but occasionally engaged in pleasant, quiet conversation. 

It took about that long for the water to turn cold, and once it did, you both stood and began showering, taking turns washing each other’s backs and generally being silly. 

In the back of your mind, you thought about just how much better you truly felt. Miguel had certainly worked his magic and, essentially, brought you back to life. As you stood under the warm spray of water from the showerhead, Gigi teasing you about how funny you looked with your shower cap on, you smiled, taking a moment to feel the soap suds slide down your body and the firmness of Miguel’s own frame against yours. 

Once you both were clean and rinsed, Miguel took it upon himself to towel you off, and you, deciding that it wasn’t fair to let him do all the work, towel dried his hair for him, grinning at the mess you made of the chestnut strands. 

After you were dry, Miguel wrapped you in your towel before slinging his own around his hips, the two of you beginning your nightly oral hygiene routine. You always kept Miguel’s extra toothbrush and preferred toothpaste brand handy in your bathroom, seeing as he never slept in the guest room. 

Well, unless you were mad at him. 

Your couch wasn’t big enough to accommodate him and you never had the heart to force the big teddy bear to sleep on it, no matter what he did to piss you off. 

It annoyed you to no end, but hey, a dummy though he may be, he was your dummy and you couldn’t have him swinging around with a sore back. He had people to save and a city to protect after all.

As you brushed, a random tune started playing in your head, and seeing as you were in such a good mood, you broke out into a little jig. 

Miguel gave you the bombastic side eye, before turning to watch you fully. You paid him no mind, continuing to shake and jive to the beat that was only audible in your head. A moment later, you began humming as you danced, and once Miguel recognized the song, he chuckled around his toothbrush, beginning to hum as well. 

It took you a little longer than it normally would to wrap up your routine, but you had fun, so neither of you minded. 

Finally, the two of you made it into bed, talking to each other and laughing. 

“So, have I successfully helped you to feel better? Seems so if the bathroom is anything to go by.” Gigi chuckles, looking down at you expectantly from where he rests on his raised fist, his other thumb tracing circles on your hips. 

You playfully roll your eyes, quickly leaning up to nip at his nose. It wrinkles cutely in response, causing you to giggle.

“Yes Gigi, you have succeeded in helping me feel better. But mock me about my dancing and I’ll eat your nose for real.” You point a warning finger at him. 

“No worries, I won’t. I found it cute more than anything.” He leans down, placing quick pecks all over your face. 

The barrage is unavoidable, and once you come to this realization, you simply sit and accept your fate. 

Once your big beau is satisfied, he flips over onto his back, staring with you at the ceiling. 

“In all seriousness though, I’m really glad you feel better __.”

He intertwined his fingers with yours, and you squeeze reflexively. 

“Me too. Thank you, Miguel.”

“Fue mi placer, mi amor.”

Buy me a Kofi?

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐲'𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨' 𝐈 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲/𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞-𝐲/𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐈 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐚. 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝!

[fr3akingtf0utrn]

Trans Spidey reader where the reader is really into Miguel’s fangs and talons and everyone at HQ knows but Miguel (basically just sexual tension between oblivious people)

Miguel O’Hara x FTM!! Reader

Warnings: slight nsfw, def some hard tension, swearing, we stan cat claw Miguel. And remember I am German.. so poorly translated Spanish

I didn’t put a lot of detail in that reader is trans, but I feel that it’s still reassuring to know this fic has a trans reader :)) knowing that it’s about him but sorry!!

———————————————————————

“Yo, where’s your head at, mate?” Hobie hits your shoulder getting your attention. You blink from zoning out and uncross your arms.

“Uh just zoning my bad,” you say while boosting yourself back on your hands on the ledge, shoulders near your ears.

It was around lunch time at the HQ and you and Hobie were sitting on one of the ledges in the main lobby where you walk in. It was actually pretty quite since everyone is in the cafeteria, only some passing by.

“Are ye still thinking bout him, bro?” Hobie scoffs but chuckles at the same time. You roll your eyes, “kinda but it’s something else about him..” you ponder off.

Hobie rolls his eyes, “what? how he got like monster like features?” You go quiet and your eyes go wide.

“NAH MATE-!” He pushes you and fake gags. You cover your face and stand yourself up and start walking.

“Dude, I knew you liked em’ but not like that!” Hobie follows you as you guys hop down to the bridge, but you stop and he trips over you.

“wait,” you slowly turn around to him, “is it that obvious?” You frown up at him, waiting for his response.

“Yes! Bruv, you stare at him 24/7! And when you do it’s like your eyes turn to heart eyes.” He says and you groan throwing your head back while covering your face once again out of embarrassment.

“What about him interest you??” Hobie asks and you groan once again. “It’s too embarrassing,” you words slur from your hands.

He places his hand on your shoulder while walking around you. “I promise you it can’t be that bad,” hobie says and you move your hands giving him a look.

He raises his eyebrows, you look down. “His fangs and claws..” you mumble. “Huh,” hobie’s eyebrows furrow.

“His fangs and claws! Have you seen them! God I can’t there just so, ugh,” you throw your arms up.

Hobie stares wide eyed and mouth open, “lord, are you sure that’s the only thing?”

“We’ll obviously not, he’s so sweet when we’re alone. And he helps me a lot with certain things,” you say and comb your hair with your fingers.

“what kind of certain things??” Hobie smirks.

You side eye him, “your impossible to talk to.”

“If you think about it, it’s like monster fucking,” hobie says nonchalantly. You eyes went wide and jaw dropped. “You’re fucking disgusting,” you push and kick at Hobie and he stumbles.

You turn around and walk away. “Where are you going, dude?!” Hobie calls out to you. “To blow off steam!” You yell back and swing away.

“I would go find Miguel for that then, mate!” He laughs and sees you fumble a bit while swinging.

——

Your eyes barely left Miguel’s body the entire time. The thing was, you were barley listening to Miguel ramble.

He usually tended to do that when you guys were alone.

No matter what he does, he was just perfect. The way his hips swayed without realizing, giving sassy looks at others, which you found funny and cute. God, you wondered if he really did even know you liked him, you were obvious.

You were leaned against his desk, arms crossed and zoned out.

I wonder what triggers them..

how does he control them too?

most of all, I wonder how they feel…

Miguel turned towards you, “you get what I mean?” He suddenly asked.

You jumped, “uhm yeah sure.” Your head was still crowed.

He raised his eyebrow at you, “ why are you always out of it, cariño? You’ve been like this a couple days,” he asked you as he walked over to where you were.

You cleared your throat and boosted yourself up on the desk, “yeah, I’ve just been thinking..about- things?”

“Is that a question or statement?” Miguel’s eyes were on you, watching your body tense from his stare.

Miguel was utterly oblivious as well when it came to liking someone. Never noticed until someone points it out or if he gets jealous.

And, you had no idea he was literally obsessed with you. Jess had to smack the fuck out him to get his shit together and ask you out.

You let out a nervous chuckle and adjusted the neck of your suit. Miguel huffs and walks over to you. Your head was looking down at the ground, not noticing how the distance started closing until you saw big hands go on either side of your hips.

Miguel bad you trapped between his arms, his hips between your legs.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “huh,” you barely had words, ‘does this man not know notice what he’s doing?’

“Tell me what’s wrong so I can make you focus or feel better,” Miguel repeated. You bite the inside of your cheek, “okay..” you move yourself so you can reach for Miguel’s hand.

Miguel furrows his eyebrows, but continues watching, not wanting to stop you.

You grab it, admiring the pretty veins before pressing down in the middle of his palm, causing the talons to shoot out. You gasp and grin slightly.

Miguel raises his eyebrows, since he just takes his claw out on command, he didn’t know that was a way they could also show.

Your fingers graze his talons, loving the sharp edges. Miguel stares, eyes lidded looking at your mesmerized face. Suddenly, you gently drop his hand and reach up for Miguel’s face.

His eyes widen and he’s pushed up against you, your hands on his jaw.

“sorry, can I please just..?” you ask gently and Miguel nods like his hypnotized by you.

Your thumb traces his cheekbone while the other grazes his lips. Miguel’s body felt like it was on fire, being pushed up against you while your hands on him.

If you weren’t so oblivious and mesmerized by him right now, you would of felt the bulge creeping up against you, including the heat between your legs.

You lift Miguel’s upper lip, “can you show me them..please,” you ask noticing his fangs aren’t showing.

Miguel once again nods and opens his mouth, a soft sharp sound was heard and they appeared.

Your eyes shined with amazement and a slight grin. Your thumb stayed in his upper lip to get better angles of them.

Without noticing, you leaned closer and your thighs squeezed against Miguel’s hips. Miguel’s breath hitched when he felt you. His eyes swirled with red lust watching over you.

He felt special that you were so entranced by him, all your attention on him in this moment.

“..so sharp, Miguel,” you said under your breath and he felt his eyes go lidded as your other hand went to hold his hip to pull him even closer if that was possible.

You moaned as your thumb got a slight cut from his fangs, blood immediately oozing out. Miguel’s eyes widening, “..can I?” He asked.

You nodded and placed your hand that was on his face, onto his hips now. Miguel looked into your eyes as he stuck the tip of his tongue out and kitten licked the blood.

He leaned forward and placed one of his hands on your thigh, squeezing slightly with his claws.

Miguel wrapped his perfect lips around your thumb and sucked slightly, you feeling him suck the blood out. You watched with your mouth slightly open, and shifted your hips in the counter, accident brushing against him.

He grunted and released your thumb with a pop, his tongue still sticking out his mouth as he let you go.

Miguel’s claws dug into your thigh and slightly ran your hands up his body, loving how your hands fit on his snap waist.

Your hands made it to his biceps and then to his shoulders.

Miguel seemed breathless as your hands traced him, him staring into your own lidded eyes.

Your eyes flickered down to his plump brown lips, seeing the blood that dried slightly on them. You licked your own and you both leaned in slowly,

As soon as you felt his breath on you, a loud accent was heard.

“OI MIGUEL!! Can I steal Y/n?? I need him for something- oh..” Hobie stopped immediately in his tracks when he tilted his head up and saw you two connected by the hips.

Both of your heads snapped to him, staring wide eyed.

Hobie quickly turned around on his boot, he shoved his hands in his pockets, “I’ll just tell him later if guess! SORRY MATES!” Hobie yelled.

As soon as hobie was at the door he yelled, “make sure to use those fangs in bed on him, Miguel!”

“GET OUT,”

The sight was something, but that something was something that Hobie wish he didn’t see.

[16bruises]

Descent

word count : 1.5k

important information for writers who use google docs

A conversation between Miles and Peter B after the events of Across the Spider-Verse

”Truth without love is brutality, and love without truth is hypocrisy”

-Warren Wiersbe

“Hey-hey Miles, buddy listen-“ Peter B took a moment to catch his breath and check on Mayday before continuing, “when Miguel gets pushback he tends to.. uhm overreact.”

Miles stared deadpan at Peter before mumbling, “I feel like I, of all spider-people, would know that.”

“Well- Yeah- Well, you know- Miguel just- He” Peter fumbled with his words for a good minute before combing his fingers gently through Mayday’s bright red hair and started over slowly.

“I know you have some idea of what happened with Miguel’s daughter, he just… has a really really really hard time listening to alternatives when it comes to this kinda stuff Miles. And hey, don’t get me wrong, you were makin’ more sense to me than he usually does.” Peter chuckled lightly.

“I thought he was going to kill me” Miles fully turned to face Peter, “I thought he was going to kill me for not being bit by a spider that got into MY universe or for not being my universe’s Peter Parker and then I thought he’d go after my Dad.” Miles’ voice grew hoarse towards the end of his words, his eyes starting to water as he remembered the pure fear and adrenaline that had pumped through his veins while being chased down by Miguel O’Hara.

Peter, careful to not upset the young boy further, tugged Miles close and wrapped a strong arm around his shoulders. “I’m sorry Miles, if.. If I’d known I swear to god I would’ve done something- gotten you home so fast, kid. I would’ve done something I swear.” He spoke softly, mindful of his sleeping baby.

Miles glanced down at Mayday before leaning into Peter’s shoulder, accepting his safe hold. “I believe you, I trust you, ok? I know it might not be your place but could you just explain Miguel’s situation? At least a little bit more to me, if you’re alright with that.”

Miles’ eyes darted down to the ground awkwardly as he waited for Peter to respond.

Peter patted Miles’ shoulder and sighed, “Yeah, I don’t see why not. Most of the spider society knows about it anyways”

Miles faced back towards Peter, “I just wanna understand his situation a little better so maybe I could see where he’s coming from… you get me?”

Peter smiled sadly and patted Miles’ shoulder again, “Yeah Miles, I get you.”

-

“As you know- Miguel took the place of another man. He stole that man’s life and he paid the price for doing so.” Peter’s eyes stare out into the cityscape as he speaks,

“Miguel had a daughter, Gabriella. She was pretty young when… everything fell apart.

He had a wife there too, a really lovely lady.”

“Anyways, when that universe fell apart Miguel wasn’t able to save Gabriella, she disappeared straight out of his arms.” Peter leans down to press a quick kiss onto Mayday’s little forehead, “I think that’s always been a hard thing for him to grasp, that he genuinely couldn’t DO anything to save her at that moment.”

“But his wife, (y/n), he got her out. He got her to his actual universe. I don’t think you met her, I only met her once or twice. She lives in 2099 now.”

“How did he get (y/n) out?”

“I think he panicked at the first sign of the end and told her some stuff but who really knows? The only facts we do know is that she’s the only survivor from her universe and she had a dimensional travel watch thingy on when her universe kicked the bucket.”

“Do you think Miguel told her to wear the watch?” Miles stared down at his hands as he whispered.

“…yeah, he probably did. He probably did the same with Gabriella too. But, what little girl is gonna happily wear a hunk of metal while she plays soccer? Y’know?”

Miles hummed in response and glanced at Peter, catching him with his shoulders slumped and his face sad.

“Anyways.. back to what I was saying— Miguel’s wife, (y/n), survives the destruction of her universe. He’s heartbroken over Gabriella but he’s trying to focus on his wife. He goes to console her about the literal death of everything and everyone she’s ever known…

and she doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. In fact, she doesn’t know where they are, why he seemed so upset, where Gabriella was.”

Miles squinted, “I’m confused”

“She didn’t remember anything. She didn’t remember Miguel, the one we both know. Her memory.. her memory only went up to a certain point. Come to find out she can’t remember anything past Miguel -her Miguel’s death.” Peter huffed,

“Miguel was already losing it because his baby girl was gone and now the love of his life didn’t remember him.”

“But that wasn’t HIS daughter or wife”

Peter turned to face Miles, “He still loves them, a lot. A ton.” Peter responded sternly.

Miles looked back down at his hands, “You said (y/n) lives in 2099 still but she still doesn’t remember what happened to her kid?”

“Yeah, it’s… rough.” Peter tilted his head upwards, looking at the sky

“And you said you’ve met her”

“I have.” Peter could see the curious tilt of Miles’ head in the corner of his eye.

“The first time I met her was a little before MJ told me she was pregnant so it didn’t hit as close. Thinking back on it though, I-I couldn’t imagine.” Peter sounded distraught,

“I was gonna ask Miguel something, I honestly can’t remember what, it’s not important. And she, (y/n), was just… there. Miguel was showing her these videos of their daughter and (y/n) kept asking when Gabriella’s soccer practice would be over because she couldn’t remember what time they ended.” Peter looked downwards at Mayday before carding his fingers through his hair and deeply sighing.

“If (y/n)’s been away from her kid for so long wouldn’t she catch on? At least notice that something was up?”

“You’d think so but I think having your universe of origin wiped from existence probably messes with your brain. She glitches out even though she’s basically shackled, nobody’s ever seen her without the dimensional watch on.”

“Do you think she’s gonna.. not.. be around as long?”

“I’ve heard she’s been glitching more frequently so, she probably won’t be around for as long as she should’ve been.”

“What was the second time you met her like?” Miles fidgeted with his fingers nervously. He could tell Peter was sad about and for Miguel and (y/n).

“Hm… Miguel wasn’t there that time, it was just her. And it was after Mayday had been born. I wanna say it was like the 3rd or 4th time I’d brought her with me. Mayday gets loved on LOTS by spider-people but (y/n) just melted. She adored Mayday. Mayday liked her too, it was really cute. I got a ton of pictures by the way… if you wanna see later.” Peter grinned

“I’ve seen more pictures of your baby than I’ve seen spider-people!” Miles groaned playfully.

“HA! Well, anyways not to kick a dead horse- but that whole.. all of that is kinda why Miguel is so hellbent on keeping this canon stuff. We’re all pretty sure (y/n) doesn’t have very long left and that’s not your fault Miles but he’s been getting worse as she gets more and more… uh glitchy? I guess.” Peter patted Miles in the shoulder before pulling his arm away to wrap both around Mayday.

“Do you think she knows about the canon stuff at all?” Miles cracked his knuckles, glanced between his hands and Peter.

Peter kissed Mayday’s hair, “Doubt it” Peter frowned. “Miguel… he’s a hypocrite Miles.”

Miles turned to fully face Peter once again, this time he didn’t know what to say.

“He loves her, I know it. It’s sad. Heartbreaking what he’s gone through.” Peter tucked a loose strand of hair carefully behind Mayday’s ear, “But he’s spiraling, his wife is.. his wife’s dying and he’s not handling it well. Who would? That doesn’t mean he should ever have done what he didn’t to you Miles.” Peter reached a firm hand out to Miles shoulder.

Peter looked up, cleared his throat, “Not to ramble, but my point is: he would and has broken canon for his wife. She, and again I think she’s lovely, should not exist anymore. But he went against everything he claims he stands for to keep her. So.. we’ll get you home Miles, and we’ll make sure you and your dad are safe. If Miguel tries anything.. I don’t think I’d enjoy it but if it comes down to it I will get (y/n) involved if I had to.”

part 2 - Remembrance

[pinkmelodie]

First Miguel fic + 250+ follower special ୨୧

I’d like to start off by saying THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR ALMOST 300 FOLLOWERS !! And 2000+ notes?!? omg. I checked my inbox a few times and saw 99+ notifs every time, and when I tell you I SCREAMED. As a new writer I can’t thank you enough for all the notes and sweet comments ! I’m so grateful, so take this fic as a thank you <33

Warnings: Miguel is hinted to have slept with socks on which….is a trigger on its own apparently 😥, potentially botched ass Spanish……(no Google translate was used tho, my French teacher taught me better than that), p in v, making out, grinding, slight blood, reader has no chill nor filter but Miguels lowkey into it, degradation, bondage, banter, oral, praise, etc.

a/n: Takes place before the whole Miles incident !! I love Miguel but I can’t forgive him for doing that to my son 🤨🤨 This could also be imagined as König, since they’re both huge stubborn men <33

Pairing: Female reader x Miguel O’Hara 

Summary: Miguel is pent up and needs a release. Lucky for him, there’s a certain spider woman who’d do anything for him <3

Words: 4141 (DAMN I shocked myself w this)

. . .

Miguel runs his hand through his hair, grumbling when he feels it’s getting to a length that needs cutting again. Just another thing to add to his pile of responsibilities.

He pushes the fumbled blanket off to the side and lazily palms at his morning wood, finding the ministrations do little to help his raging hard-on. He’s shocked, mainly that he could still get one with how tense he’s been lately, but mostly that he’s actually annoyed that he has to jerk off. It feels like a chore to him now…though taking care of himself in any sense has since he became Spider-Man.

With a sleepy groan he drags himself up and to the bathroom. His mismatched socks are soft against the cool bathroom tiles where he turns on the shower. His muscles stretch when he tugs his white sweater over his head and tosses it onto the ground nearby, abs tensing and shoulders refusing to relax no matter how much stretching he did.

When the rest of his clothing join the heap on the floor he steps into the freezing cold shower, twitching at the icy droplets that felt like tiny icicles poking into his taut skin. 

He hoped the temperature would make the nuisance go down, but it raged on, standing proud at its full height. Miguel never thought he’d find himself glaring at his own dick, but here he was, horny and heavily pissed off. 

He reached down and tugged at his cock, rubbing his thumb over the angry red tip. He jerked profusely, yet all it did was leave him feeling unsatisfied and humiliated. 

“Fuck.” He cursed, washing his hand off before aggressively turning the knob to stop the flowing water. He tried to remember what he had to do today while pacing the bathroom, but he couldn’t focus with his erection clouding  his thoughts. Maybe if the blood would stay in his head…

He was an attractive guy, he knew that much. It would be easy to go out into the town and hook up with some stranger, but not so much so when he was in this constant sour mood. That sullen energy & resting bitch face paired with his looming height would scare any woman away.

Any sane woman.

You tied up the last of the criminals in your silky webs, smiling in victory. Unfortunately, the joy wasn’t long-lasting since as soon as you got home you felt boredom creeping up on you once again.

For weeks you’d been entertained by the intimidating founder of the spider society; Miguel O’Hara.You’d been bugging him for days on end, literally drooling at his feet and begging him to come back to your place.

He kicked you out multiple times, but like a cockroach you couldn’t be squashed—and neither could your need for him. You just couldn’t take a hint apparently. When he picked you up by the back of your suit and threw you back into your universe, all you focused on was how easily he carried you with just one of his big, veiny hands.

The way that suit hugged his defined chest so well, and his massive arms where you could see every vein…plus that prominent bulge? You were sunk.

He’d finally run out of patience for you when you ‘accidentally’ messed with the tech for his suit, almost making him go full commando in front of everyone in the spider society.(wouldn’t be the last time that happened…) He banned you for good, taking away your ‘multiversal gizmo’ without a second thought.

Your last words being ‘worth it!’ as you were flung back into your universe by the go-home-machine seemed like the icing on the cake to him despising you forever, but apparently that wasn’t the case because the man himself just appeared in your living room.

“Y/N.” He addressed nonchalantly.

You stared at him, jaw agape for a few moments before pinching yourself to see if you were dreaming. You had to be, he basically filed a restraining order against you. A really complicated, multiversal restraining order. Why  would he ever voluntarily come to you?

You couldn’t even respond since your throat felt so dry .. . It seemed your body had other ideas of where to soak.

“Why are you so obbsesed with me?” He suddenly asked, paying no mind to your awkward silence. 

“uhm-“

“I mean, you chased me around every day, eyed me down so intensively it was basically public sex and yet here you are, alone with me like you wanted, and now you’re speechless?” He stalked around your living room, circling you like a bird of prey.

You blushed up a storm and stood frozen in front of him, trying to discretely rub your thighs together.

He eyed you down, noticing your obvious ministrations but only chuckling. “Sometimes I had wished you were an actual spider so I could crush you under the soles of my shoes, but lately I’ve found myself feeling as horny and desperate as you.” He admitted with a smirk that revealed his sharpened fangs. 

That confession had your mind reeling to the point all you could muster up was; “I would’ve let you step on me regardless.”

His smirk grew and he started to approach you until his shadow covered you completely. You had to tilt your whole head up to look him in his glowing red eyes now—but you couldn’t handle making the eye contact anyway.

“You are just a small little thing, yet I didn’t expect you to be all bark no bite. All those filthy things you said lingered in my mind..don’t you want to take care of what you started?” He asked in a deliciously low voice. The almost mocking manner he said it in made you feel called out, and you looked down at your hands and picked at your nails to try and calm yourself.

A clawed finger tilted your head up by the chin and forced you to look into his eyes. How could you forget—in all your time spent basically stalking him you noticed how he never broke eye contact with anyone that he was speaking to. It was both exhilarating and intimidating to see, and you felt that full force while finally being on the receiving end of it. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you, arañita.” He ordered, and it sent tingles shooting up your spine.

You swore you heard your neck crack from how fast you looked up at him. He looked predatory staring down at you like that, eyes gleaming in the sunlight. “So? Will you finish what you started muñeca?” He asked, as if it was even a question to you.

“Fuck yes.” You agreed without missing a beat, making him chuckle darkly. “Needy thing.”

Before your mind could catch up you were suddenly being lifted by him and thrown on his shoulder with ease. He walked through the halls of your cozy apartment and waltzed into your bedroom without even searching for it, carelessly throwing you onto the bed.

You landed with a bounce on the soft comforter, feeling even smaller now with him standing above you. “Wha- how do you know where my bedroom is?” You asked when your brain finally decided to have a rational thought. 

“I’ve done my research—wanted to make sure you weren’t a spy. It was a waste of time, really, you’re just a horny stalker.” He shrugged.

You stared at him with an offended expression (tho it was 100% true) and went to argue until your lips were suddenly sealed by sticky red webs.

 “On your back.” He ordered. 

You crossed your arms at him first until he repeated the command in a low, dangerous voice. “Now.” Any defiance you had pretended to have quickly left your body and you laid down flat on the silk sheets.

He stalked over to you, all big and menacing as always. He leaned over you and forced your wrists together, twirling more glowing silk around them until they were bound above your head. 

He smirked down at you, leaning in to pepper kisses all over your neck. He sucked dark hickeys onto the sensitive skin of your throat, enjoying your muffled moans. While before he found your voice excruciating—he was now desperate to hear it crying out his name.

He stripped the webs off your mouth and you whined at the pain. The feeling resembled a bandaid being ripped off a fresh cut. He cooed pitifully above you and leaned in, whispering “Pobre araña, why don’t I kiss it better?” 

You nodded desperately until his lips met yours with a slight sting. He growled into your mouth, swirling his tongue around yours and exploring your mouth until you were squirming. He nibbled on your bottom lip, sharp canines threatening to break the skin. He pushed his muscled thigh between your legs and pressed down on your clit with his knee, the pressure making you moan under him. Your sweet sounds drove him wild, and he couldn’t help but bite down lightly on your lip until tiny droplets of blood dripped onto his tongue.

He groaned at the taste, his animalistic split-DNA going wild. When he pulled back—lips reddened, hair tussled and fallen slightly in front of his face— you couldn’t help but stare. His face looked so much more chiseled up close, cheekbones perfectly defined and a jawline sharper than the claws currently resting on your hips. 

His toned chest rose up and down steadily while he regained his breath, the familiar spider symbol on his suit growing bigger then smaller with each rise of his lungs like it was breathing. 

“Let’s take care of these, Cariño.” He addressed your clothing as if it were nothing but a nuisance for him before slicing your shirt right off you. He did this with ease, big claws moving onto your bottoms and clawing those off as well.

“Hey! Those were nice.” You pouted, though apparently he didn’t appreciate that comment because you were now being tied up even worse than before. Webs spewed from his wrist and circled your body like serpents, tying around your waist, arms, and thighs. “Don’t be a brat.” He ordered, webs tightening in warning. Once satisfied, he admired the way they looked pulled taut against your soft skin. “Red looks lovely on you, amor.” He praised, a quick switch from his previous comment.

He lifted you and reached behind your back, unclasping your bra with one hand. He threw it onto the ground somewhere with your torn up clothes, focusing his attention on your soft tits.

He hummed in content, playing with your nipples and letting his webs circle around the soft flesh of your breasts. He licked and sucked at one while tugging on the other, making you moan and squirm under him.

“Fuck Miguel- ah! more!” You whined desperately, coaxing a chuckle out of the behemoth. 

“Such a desperate slut.” He tutted, sucking marks all over your chest to match your throat. He kissed over the already forming hickeys, grazing his teeth dangerously close to your jugular. This man was massive, and made of pure muscle like a Greek god. He could easily hold you down without the help of his webs, but he wanted to focus full attention on you. 

He finally moved down to where you needed him most, going to rip your panties straight off you before you rudely slammed your thighs shut. “You take off your suit first….” You whined, embarrassed at being nearly completely nude before him while he was still covered. He was genuinely offended by this, feeling like he’d just had a door slammed on his face, yet he grumbled and messed around with his watch until the hologram started to dissipate.

Your jaw dropped wider and wider the more you took him in. The man resembled a skillfully carved statue belonging to Olympus itself. His biceps and abs were enough to challenge even Ares himself. Your eyes trailed lower and lower, leisurely mapping him out until your eyes locked on the weapon between his legs.

His dick stood loud and proud against his toned stomach, and it was massive. The man is 6,9, you knew he’d be big, but this thing was around 9 inches and looked like it could rip you in half. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from it even if you tried—I mean—the thing was basically introducing itself to you. We’re talking hello, how are you and goodbye.

Miguel basked in your ogling, his ego swelling more than it already had since he first noticed your obsession with him.

You finally snapped out of your trance when he bent down and slipped off your soaked panties, kissing up your leg as he did so. You spread both your legs for him and he took that as an invitation to lean in and lick a stripe up your wet cunt. You jumped, not expecting him to get into it so quickly, but you definitely didn’t complain.

He prodded a finger at your hole and pushed it in slowly, holding your hips down with his free hand. He made sure to be mindful of the claws adorning his fingertips since they wouldn’t go back down thanks to his clouded mind. The thick digit went in without much resistance thanks to how wet you were, until he pushed in a second and started scissoring them. 

You moaned and whimpered at the stretch, two of his thick fingers the size of nearly four of yours. He pumped them in and out quickly, the slick sounds your pretty hole made for him music to his ears. Your slick dripped down his ring and middle fingers that he was ruthlessly pumping inside you and dribbled down his veiny forearm.

He massaged your walls and pushed against them, scissoring his fingers to stretch you as much as possible. He couldn’t hit your g-spot thanks to his clawed fingertips, so he sucked at your clit to fill that extra stimulation until your head was rolling back. 

Something circled your waist and you figured it was his arm until you looked back down to see more webs. You would wriggle far too much without them, and he needed his other hand to spread your folds to drag a mix of his salvia and your slick around your twitching clit. You mewled at the overwhelming stimulation, bucking onto his face while he had a full on make out sesh with your pussy.

Only when he finally sunk four fingers into you and you were basically on the brink of tears with need did he pull away. Not without blowing on your sensitive clit, of course, just to see you twitch and squirm under the unrelenting grasp of his webs.

He stood up with a playful smile, freeing you from some of the webs just to pull you to the edge of the bed. Your ass met his pelvis with a slap when he yanked you by the ankle that quickly locked around his waist. He chuckled out something in Spanish that you didn’t understand, maybe along the lines of “Qué bonita putita…”. You didn’t bother to question it when he started to grind his rock hard dick on your drooling pussy, getting him all nice and wet to push into you. 

Only when he was coated completely in your essence did he listen to your pleas and finally line his fat tip up at your hole. Even with the all the stretching, your poor cunt had to stretch to accommodate the swollen red tip. His pre-cum mixed with your juices when it finally popped in after some resistance, and he groaned at the warm feeling.

“So fucking tight, your poor pussy can’t take it, hm? You were so confident when you were begging for it like a desperate whore.” He growled, degradation making you clench Impossibly tighter around his head until he had to bite back a groan.

“Please Mig, I can take it.” You begged, rutting your hips onto him and trying to coax him deeper until he swiftly grabbed your waist. His claws dug into your skin, threatening to break through. He pulled back and you immediately assumed he was going to tease you again for being desperate. 

Straight away you whined out apologies, stumbling over your words and pleas until he suddenly slammed back inside you, cramming 5 of his solid inches into your hole. You screamed, tears brimming on your waterline at the stretch. Your back arched off the bed and you squirmed away from the sting until he pulled back and rutted back in again, almost as if testing the waters.

With every drag of his hips his cock slowly got deeper into you until he was bottomed out completely. His tip kissed against your cervix and you looked down, amazed and horrified to see him crammed inside you so snugly. He gave you a moment to compose yourself—preoccupied on the bulge in your lower stomach. 

“My good girl, fitting around me so perfectly. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He teased, dick twitching at the fucked out moan you gave in response.

It definitely was hard, yet his dick was harder. You could feel every single vein and ridge pressing into you, rubbing against your gummy walls in a way that left you drooling. You suddenly understood why he’d prepped you for so long. It wasn’t just to tease you, this just was not an easy thing to take. 

“Move,” you pleaded, correcting youself when he raised an eyebrow, “please.”

He hummed, palming at the fat of your hips to see the way your skin sunk under his touch. “I don’t know Cariño…do you really deserve this dick?” 

You gave him your best “are you for real?” face. This man was not about to make you beg when he was the one to randomly show up in your home. You’d been begging on your knees for him for months, and now he chooses to acknowledge it?

You made it your personal mission to go against everything he’s ever ordered from you, and the grind never does stop, does it?

“Like you deserve to kiss my ass?” You jest without hesitation. 

You can see the way his whole face stretches; clearly dumbfounded at your response before he’s able to compose himself. With your cunt wrapped around him so tight and warm like that, it’s easy to forget the pretty spider underneath him is a little rascal.

“You were just whining a second ago, don’t try that,” He warned. “You’ve been begging for it for months, practically humping my leg in front of the entire Arachno-Humanoid-Poly-Universe.” 

You groaned at his insistence on calling it that, even while balls deep inside you. “I didn’t sign up to fuck a geek,” you mutter.

“With the way you approached me I’m sure you’d fuck just about anyone, puta.”

You wanted to be insulted, but your words caught in your throat when he leaned close to you to whisper right into your ear; “Quit acting like you had any dignity in the first place and beg.”

His warm breath on your nape left you shivering. Miguel wasn’t human—not completely. With DNA mixed with a spiders, he was a predator; one ready to devour you whole.

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone really when you gradually let quiet pleas spill from your mouth. Miguel had half the mind to make you speak up, but he was loosing his thin amount of patience as is. With a satisfied click of his tongue, he pulled back until his flushed head was right at your entrance “see, was that so hard?”

You knew better than to try and answer at this point when he rammed his cock back into you. Huge hands gripped your thighs and pushed your legs into your chest while he bullied his dick further and further into your cunt. 

Your pussy was embarrassingly loud for him, squelching with each brutal thrust of his hips. His muscled thighs were tense with the pure strength he put into slamming into you—beating your sensitive pussy in until it memorized his shape for life. 

“Mig- ah! Holyfuck!” You screamed, draping your arms over his shoulders and scratching at his back like a cat post.

“Go on princesa, mark me up.” He encouraged and got a better grip on your thighs, pushing your legs out to a full spread. He had you displayed like a dinner feast and bent you like a lawn chair with your lower half on his toned chest. He was actually impressed at your flexibility, yet like always he chose the worst way to phrase it.

“I’m shocked, I never expected you to do any real training.” 

“Fuck you.”

“That’s what you’ve been wanting, is it not?” He gloated with such a shit-eating expression that you just had to wipe off his face. He sunk deeper into you when you pulled him in for a kiss and it had you clenching around him.

His thrusts got more erratic until your mind was clouded with only the sounds of his dick disappearing into your cunt. His hands were dragging you back onto him by the hips at the same time, so you could feel him bumping against your cervix with each thrust.

You were too fucked out to say anything other than broken moans and mewls of his name, and he wasn’t too far off.

“So pretty Cariño,” he groaned, “all for me? mierda- yeah, all for me.”

A string of loud mewls along with shameless moans poured out of your bruised lips in response. He pounded your pussy with so much vigour that you edged forward on the ruffled mattress with each rough thrust.

He massaged your throbbing clit between his fingers, laughing at the way they kept slipping around from how much of your own arousal was dripping down your cunt. Heavy balls slapping against your soft skin filled your ears when you felt that coil in your stomach start to snap.

“Pussys gripping me like a fucking vice- you gonna cum for me?” he teased, “look baby- look at how well this sweet little pussys taking me.”

He took your hand and lead it down until it was tracing the prominent bump in your stomach - You could feel every brutal thrust and see the way he ravaged your insides. You pressed down on it, getting impossibly tighter around him and the broken moan he let out was what got you.

He quickly tore a mind-numbing orgasm out of you - thick cockhead still splitting you open while he worked your clit. You soaked his cock and squeezed against it, shaking and crying under him until you could barely take it anymore. 

He smiled in pride, sharp fangs showing and making him resemble the waiting mouth of a shark. “Such a good fucking girl, coming all over me like that. Look at the mess you’ve made,” he hummed, observing the noticeable white ring you left around the base of his cock. 

His thrusts stuttered before stilling completely inside you. He made a noise akin to an animal before spilling his hot cum inside your welcoming heat with a shudder and a broken moan.

“Mfhm- mierda.. .” He cursed, his warmth filling you up so much it started to spill out.

You felt like a rag doll under him, half-asleep and smiling dumbly up at him. He chuckled and admired one last time how pretty you looked in his glowing red webs, wrapped around you like his own custom lingerie. 

He sliced them off you and smiled warmly when you raised your arms out to him. He leaned in to let you wrap your arms around his massive shoulders with your legs now wrapping around his waist.

He picked you up with you curled into him like a koala - the warm sensation of his cum dripping down your connected bodies grounding you while he walked to your bathroom. 

He pressed soft kisses to your marked up-neck while he ran a warm bath, rubbing at the indents his claws subconsciously left on your hips. 

You didn’t remember exactly when you fell asleep; somewhere between when his large hands washed the cum off your skin or when he gently laid you down on your fresh bedsheets. 

All you knew was that you woke up to the smell of clean laundry and noticed snacks and a water bottle left on your nightstand. There was a note too that you had to reach over to grab. His handwriting was smudged but fancy, and it was so adorably him that it left you smiling ear to ear. 

“Had to leave early. Meet me in my office tomorrow and we’ll discuss how you’ll be living in my universe from now on ,seeing as how you’re now mine, mi vida.” 

. . .

[desb3ar]

Night Terrors

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: You had a nightmare.

Warning: Chasing, animalistic actions, dark themes

Word count: 800+ (Short)

Your legs were on fire, pushing against the hard ground with overpowering adrenaline fueling your vessel. Your mind screamed madly at you to not let your taunting exhaustion prevail. There was a barreling threat on your shortening trail, hungry and desperate. The mindless monster seeks salvation through you, tasting whatever you have in store within the confines of your warm, sweaty skin. Your mouth ran dry when you heard the grunts and callouts, begging you to escape from your goal of finally getting away from him. You didn’t give in to his harrowing pleas, your instinct wouldn’t allow it.

Caught in his web and getting out every time, it was a repetitive hell that made surrendering seem like heaven. You told yourself, what was the point? Why even try? It felt like an endless, hellish game of cat and mouse and you got trapped no matter how careful you were to not trip, slip, fall, and fumble. Still, he didn’t catch you. You were far too slippery for him.

What could be done? His heightened senses laughed at you trying to hide from him. He could sniff you out in seconds, he could see you in the dark corners that had lied about the promised safety it would provide. He could hear the trembling breath you tried to quiet down, making catching your breath merely a death sentence. Before your lungs could replenish the sweet air back into its longing cavities, you were instantly caught. His face of pure malice and twisted intent shows up in mere seconds once you’ve recovered. Nothing worked, everything was against you. Everything.

You ran down to the empty streets of the underground, your legs begging for rest as you seek restlessly for refuge. Looking around as you moved with haste. Your eyes darted anywhere that could at least postpone your death. Keeping yourself together and yet you began to think that running for this long seemed to be useless knowing your end was inevitable. He will catch you.

Your legs, mind, arms, and whole being were riddled with hopelessness. There was nothing you could do against him. Your web shooters had nothing else to provide after you made an attempt to trap him instead, only for him to slash through the material like butter and run to you like nothing you’ve seen before. He was an animal, a carnivore neglected, trapped in a cage that finally was freed from the bars of the enclosure it had remained. Ribs showed through the skin, eyes wide with need for food, all things blurred in its vicinity, nothing wasn’t a victim to its terror it rained upon the poor people it encountered or sniffed out.

Your eyes threatened to spill more tears, blurring your vision as you, like you were a small-minded character only capable of performing horror movie cliches, made your way down an alleyway. Your last resort. You didn’t know why you tried. These horrifying moments end the same way, no matter how much you tried to counter it. You were in a dim corner, right beside rotting garbage, you felt your stomach turn at the odor. However, that didn’t grant a huge effect like the beety red eyes did when they locked onto you like he already knew exactly where you were. It only just now clicked with you that he had an AI. Telling him every detail he needed to know to secure his prize.

This meant that everything you did was pointless.

Your doom was sealed as he came down with such haste that you didn’t even have time to scream. Not here.

.

.

.

.

“...”

.

.

“... (Y/N)...”

.

.

“(Y/N)...!”

.

“(Y/N)!!!”

You were shaken awake. You heard the sounds of Miguel’s voice, it sounded like he was struggling, and you felt his hands try to hold you still, pressing hard on your shoulders with a tight grip. You were screaming at the top of your lungs, from the scratchiness of your throat, you’ve been doing so for ages.

"Baby! Open your eyes!" He pleaed. Just like in the dream.

You opened your eyes, greeted by Miguel’s gentle expression that was filled with fear and overbearing concern. Your yelling ceased, chest going up and down. You felt he had his body weight pressed down on your legs, his solution to keep your legs from flailing around, as if you were trying to run from your unforgiving mind. His worried eyes darted at your face which was drenched in sweat and tears. You had finally calmed down enough to utter his name. 

“(Y/N)...” He melted, arms wrapping around you, holding you close like you had almost died. 

He had been awake the entire time you had your dream, the sounds of distress bleeding past your lips stifled him awake. The way your calm body had progressively gotten restless genuinely scared him stiff.

You looked at him, unable to make sense of the sudden contrast of how he was in your dream and how he was now. 

Miguel O’Hara, your love, your partner you’d fight demons for, had torn into you in your dreams. How he’s comforting you. Nothing made sense to you.

Why? -

-

-

-

Aaaaa. You didn't see that coming, did you? Well, surprise! That was something I've been wanting to write about for... A literal second. I'm in class rn as of typing this lol. Some horror for the holidays. Bound to get you in the spirit! ;D

I HOPE YOU LIKED THE READ!!

i'll try and make some art of this when I got time <33

[romanarose]

Surrender

Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Join my taglist!

Masterlist

Summary: Miguel needs help letting go

Content/warnings: PIV sex, choking, degredation, teasing

Based off this Miguel animation that twitter user @superrbanana, please give the artist a retweet as a thanks for letting me use it for inspiration!

***************

It was silly, honestly, to think you had any control over Miguel O’Hara. But you didn’t take that control, he gave it over willingly. 

You’d seen him at work. Well, around work anyway. You weren’t dimension hopping or anything, but he had taken you to his headquarters, especially when he needed Peter B. Parker but Peter had Mayday, asking you to babysit. He was incredibly, so in control, so on top of everything happening all the time… it was incredible. 

No wonder he needed to let go a little bit.

Miguel had brought it up not too long ao, the idea of wanting you to take control for a night, what that may entail, what he and you are both comfortable with and you liked the idea. Miguel always took care of you, and if there was something he needed, you were happy to give it to him. 

So when Miguel walks through the doors of your home, shoulders tense and eyes distracted, you knew he needed you.

“Miggy, you alright, ceilo?” You say, approaching him and reading his body language in order to gauge if he needed a hot, a cuddle on the couch watching Superstore (he had a crush on America Ferrera), or if you needed to give him the ride of his life. You decided on the latter.

“Si, mamacita, solo un mal dio. Y tu, hermosa? Como estas?”

“Bien, Miguel” slowly, you approached him, hips swaying, and you see the small smile spread on his face. He knew the look in your eyes.

“What are you planning there, amor?” He teased, knowing damn well you were planning to fuck him, just not how. 

You place two hands on his chest, you shove him against the door. “Aht, aht, aht. You don’t get to ask questions. You just gotta lay there and take it, mi hombre guapo, got it? Be my own personal fuck toy, entiendes?”

Looking up at the tall, broad man in front of you, you see that even as his face begins to allow surrender, his eyes have crinkled into a small smile. Just for you. Only for you (and sometimes Mayday).

Fisting his shirt up in your hands, you pull Miguel down for a rough, bruising kiss, biting on the plush pillows of his lips as you turn him around and  walk him backwards to the couch (he might have tripped on the coffee table but you recovered). When his calves rest against the bottom of the couch, you attempt to grind your lower body against his, letting his cock get fully hard before you fumble with his belt.

“You gonna let me use you, Miguel? Gonna let me ride this dick for my own pleasure?”

“Y-yes, please” He gasps, the thrill of letting go seeping into his head, his chest breathing heavily against your firm touch.

“Gonna be a good boy and now cum until I take what I need?”

It’s practically a whine. “God yes”

 As soon as you hear the clink of the buckle hit the floor, you shove Miguel onto the couch, taking out his cock from his boxers and giving him a few gratuitous pumps as you straddle your lover’s hips. Always a tease, you grind your sopping wet pussy over him, feeling the fat tip of his aching member prod against your folds as you practically dripped for him. You take off his shirt to reveal every muscle, every dip, every ripple you’ve come to adore.

He tries to grab your hips, to pull you down onto his, but you smack his hands away, bundling them up in your hands. Where he could put both yours wrists in his strong single grip, you need both yours for his. “Naughty boy… You know, I could get myself off from just riding your thigh, Miguel. Do you want me to do that? Do you want me to use your body for my pleasure and leave you with nothing?”

“No, mi vida, no-”

“Because you’re my fuck toy, right? You're my little toy to use when I’m needy, no better than that piece of plastic in my drawer. And toys don’t need to cum.” You continue teasing him, jerking his cock that you needed both hands to wrap around, only giving a pump or two before you spend most of the time smearing precum over the tip.

“Amor, please!” Miguel writhes beneath you, back coming off the couch as he struggles from someone feeling over and understimulated. “I’ll be good, just-”

Shoving his back where he belongs on the couch, you hold Miguel’s face in all it’s beauty and it’s a wonder you don’t cut your hand on that jawline, his eyebrow slightly cocked at seeing you take the power.

“What are you?” You hang over him, his cock notched at your entrance, ready to impale you if only he complies.

With a dreamy, subby, lust-filled gaze on his face, he looks up at you, fangs prominent, and obeys. “Your ummm… your personal fuck toy”

Longer able to resist him, not when he’s so submissive, wavy brown hair wilding around his face, you sink down onto him the warmth of your cunt developing Miguel's length, stuffing you full enough to make you whine a little, no matter how many times you’ve felt him inside you.

Unwilling to fully let him off the hook, you attempt to wrap your hand around his throat (jesus christ, is everything about him massive and muscled?), and squeeze, just enough to cause a huff of air to escape his perfect mouth.

Miguel looks at you in wonder, blissed out and submissive beneath your body as you ride him, pumping yourself on his dick. He’s smiling a bit, all his worries of today, tomorrow and yesterday, all his problems and stress, calculations, loss, the constant buzzing in his fading away, surrendering to you and your body. Nothing mattered but them.

“T-thank you”

***************

Hope you all enjoyed!

Remember, reblogs are the only way to spread works, and comments keep a writer writing!

I have one more miguel on my masterlist if you are so inclinded!

@fandxmslxt69 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @k-ra @eyelessfaces @ivystoryweaver @steven-grants-world @campingwiththecharmings @ahookedheroespureheart @littlenosoul

[writers-advocate]

just one more | m.o.

description: he didn’t protect you from your shared sleazy boss. it’s only fair he helps you take care of the ache right?

cw: once again dubcon due to aphrodisiac, overstimulation [on both ends], implied minor wounds [improper use of his talons lol], creampie, excessive use of the word ‘please’

he’s driving you insane.

well, in reality it’s whatever that chemical concoction was that delgato gave you. but your mind isn’t all there enough to blame anyone but miguel at the moment.

nevertheless, you whimper and whine when he doesn’t replace his fingers with his cock after a solid… minute. “please please i can ta- take it. lemme take it, miggy please.” he lets out a slow, shuddering breath, every muscle taut with restraint as he slides his seat back to give you more space to settle. space is the least of your worries judging by the way you simply move with him, chest pressed to his while he tries so hard to satisfy you without losing his mind.

his head thumps back against the headrest when you actively start to ride his fingers, your own hand dipping below his sweats again. “need to, prep yo-ou-“

“please please! i promise i’ll be good, i can take it!” you continue, free hand pulling his away from your dripping cunt with a pathetic sound, and next thing he knows, his fingertips are pressed into your hips, grip most likely bruising while you line yourself up with his leaking tip. he thinks he might die.

he fumbles with his words, unable to form a proper sentence when you are quite literally dripping onto him, and you take that as your chance, sinking down on him with shaky gasps and moans. as soon as your hips meet his, the entirety of him engulfed in your soft, wet heat, he’s sure he has died. and gone to heaven. “shock.“

your movements are desperate. even when he tries to hold you still long enough, to focus on keeping from immediately blowing his load, you simply whimper and grind your hips into his and nudge him just that much deeper each time. somewhere in his foggy mind he knows his grip will leave bruises, and he lets out a low groan at the mental image of hand prints on your soft skin for days. weeks. maybe he’d catch a peek- his hips buck up and you nearly wail out a “thank you!” as he begins fucking up into you properly, guiding your hips into more precise movements.

“sorry. shock, m’sorry, sweet girl. i know you need it i know, i know. gonna fuck you so full.” he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. he’s so lost in how you’re surrounding him in every way, your scent, your body flush to his, the way your walls just keep sucking his cock in. but you hear the words “fuck” and “full” and you know you’ll get what you need.

“baby, baby please- sho- ock!” he gasps, throwing his head back against the pillows. it was a struggle to get you out of the car and upstairs, but worth it in the end. he’s so pretty, you think as you pull another orgasm from him along with a cry of your name. god it still hurts, and you can’t even tell if it’s still need, or just pure overstimulation now. your brain goes with the former.

“need more, miggy please? please just ah- one more?” you’d been saying that for… he doesn’t even know how long anymore, your pretty little voice the only thing bouncing around his head, your soft hands feeling like home on his chest. was it dark out when he’d picked you up? his mind turns to further mush as those sinfully slick sounds from between you begin again and a wave of painful pleasure makes him whine and press his talons deep into your hips. that abnormal little feature of his goes unnoticed by you, too busy chasing another high.

“one more one more just need to be full wanna be full of you oh please please please-“ and he’s nodding along with your words again. anything for you.

while you’re busy attempting to focus on his teary eyes and flushed skin, he’s committing every inch of you he can to memory through his thick haze. the pure need in your barely open eyes, your silky blouse half torn over your chest, a lacy little thing that’s soaked and somehow stayed curled around your ankle. he has the distant thought that he’ll keep those. tuck them away when you inevitably fuck yourself to sleep so that when you wake up and realize what a mistake this was, he’s got his consolation prize.

if you don’t put him to sleep first.

“ay, cariñito- please cum, hermosa just need you t- t’cum ‘nd i’ll fill you up yeah? i’ll give it all to you, never gonna leave your pretty pussy empty again promise just- oh god- just please cum,” he half growls, half whines, and you are truly his personal little heaven because the way your hips roll and bounce and grind like you’re trying to make sure he makes good on that promise is causing him to see stars. he notices your desperate little whimpers like you’re waiting for something and he has enough brain power to slide his thumb from your hip to circle your sensitive clit and oh god you’re cumming fuck.

his name tumbles from your lips for the umpteenth time that night in those slurred whines and moans, and yours from his in a breathy growl that tapers off into a gasp while his cock twitches weakly within your walls, adding to the mess dripping onto the sheets and circling the base of his shaft. you collapse onto his chest and he immediately wraps his arms around you, both of you panting, him murmuring praises while stroking your hair.

it’s not until he’s close to drifting off that you squeeze tight around him again and his eyes fly open simply to roll back with a groan. your sleepy voice is the only other thing that registers. he doesn’t realize that the haze has cleared from your eyes a bit. the drug is wearing off…

“just one more, mig?”

a/n: i know this is not my best work but i needed to get this outta my system he is plaguing me i swear